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AUTHOR: 


GUERBER,  H.  A. 
(HEL'ENE  ADELINE) 


TITLE : 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE 


PLACE: 


NEW  YORK 


DA  TE : 


1907 


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Guerber,  H.  A.}:q(Herene  Ade  1  i  ne  )  ,  f  dd.  1929 
Legends  of  the  Rhinef  h[fnicrof  ordi] . 
New  York,{:bA.  S.  Barnes  &  Co   ^c^'^n? 

xviii,  350  p.}:bfront.,  plates .,  f:c20  cm 

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LEGENDS  OF  THE    RHINE 


BY 

H.   A.    GUERHER 

ATTHOK    OK    "MYTHS    OF    CRKFfl-    A\!)    1;omk."    "  MYTI?f;    OF    NORTHERN 

LANDS,"    "CO.MKS    Kl'    I.F.i  I  K.N  I  •!•  S.  "    "  MAKCHKN    AND 

EKZAHLUiNLitN,"    fc.lC.,    JilC. 


SIXTJf  EDITION 


NEW  YORK 


A     S.    15AKNi:s    &    CO 


Kjo; 


LEGENDS  OF  THE   RHINE 


BY 


H.   A.   GUERBER 

AUTHOR   OF    "MYTHS   OF   GRF.F.CF.    AND    ROMF,"    "MYTHS   OF   NORTHERN 


>t     n 


LANDS,'    "CONTKS    KT    I.K(}KNI 'KS. '      "•  MARCHEN   AND 

erzAhlungen,"  etc.,  file. 


4 


1 


SIXTH  EDITION, 


NEW  YORK 

A.    S.    BARNES    &    CO 

1907 


V 


CONTENTS. 


A.&  BARNES&CXX 


.»;_ 
,»-' 


Rhine  Song, •••.  xiii 

Preface,      •••••••         .....xv 

Introduction, xvii 

Stavoren  :  The  Sunken  City, i 

Hague  :  The  Beggar's  Curse, 5 

Friesland  :  The  Christening  of  a  King, 8 

^  lERTRUiDENBERG :  Story  of  St.  Gertrude,          o        o        .        ,        .  9 

ivEVLAAR  :  The  Pilgrimage  to  Kevlaar, 13 

Cleves;  The  Swan  Knight, 16 

The  Prince's  Vow, 22 

LC  TTicH :  Saint  Peter  and  Saint  George, 25 

Xanten  :  Story  of  Siegfried,     ..•..,..  26 

Elberfeld  :  The  Angel  Page,  .         .         , 41 

i  )0ssELDORF :  The  Critics  Silenced,  . 45 

JoLOGNE :  The  Cathedral  Legend, 47 

The  Devil's  Wager, 53 

The  Devil's  Stone, 54 

The  Fire  Bell, 55 

The  Legend  of  the  Cross, 56 

The  Eleven  Thousand  Virgins, .  58 

A  Prompt  Retort, 61 

The  Magician  and  the  Courtiers,         .                 •        •        •        .  62 

The  Sacrilegious  Painter, •        •        .  64 

The  Christ-Child  and  the  Boy, 64 

The  Resurrection  of  St.  Matemus, 67 

The  Church  of  the  Apostles,        ..•••..  67 

The  Stain  of  Sin ,        .        .  70 

The  Heinzelm&mchen,        ..,»*.,.  71 

The  Novice,        ....,..,..  72 

The  Priest's  Gate, 73 

Brauweiler  :  The  Game  of  Chess,  ....,,.  75 

Arnoldsweiler  :  The  Minstrel's  Ride.    ...♦,,  78 


428843 


'=*! 


▼I 


CONTENTS. 


s/ 


ZOndorp  :  The  Ctysta!  Pilace, 

GoDORF :  The  Will-o'-the-Wisp, 
Aix-la-Chapelle  ;  The  Magic  Ring, 
The  Cathedral  Legend, 
Eginhard  and  Emma,  . 
The  Emperor's  Sin,     . 
The  Emperor's  Ride,  . 
Roland's  First  Adventure, 
A  Generous  Deed, 
The  Golden  Eggs, 
LOlsdorf  :  The  Cruel  Sister, 
ZOlpich  :  Clovis*  Vow, 
LCftelberg:  The  Charitable  Girl » 
ViLLiCH  :  The  Box  on  the  Ear, 
Bonn:  The  Vehm-Gericht, 
The  Three  Sleepers,    . 
The  Devil  and  the  Wind, 
Kreuzburg  :  The  Strange  Bird, 

The  High  Cross, 
GoDESBERG  I  The  Deserted  Wife, 
Ramersdorf  :  The  Dancers  Cursed* 
-  Heisterbach  :  The  Bird  of  Paradise, 
The  Church  Pillar,      . 
The  Last  Abbot, 
NonnenstrOmberg  :  The  Hermit  Sisters, 

The  Cruel  Parents, 

Oelberg  :  The  Thunderbolt,    . 

L6WENBERG  :  The  Wild  Hunt, 

Drachenfels  :  The  Story  of  Roland, 

Rheinbreibach  :  The  Three  Miners, 

Si.  Apollinarisberg  :  The  Greedy  Abbot, 

Ockenfels  :  Taken  at  His  Word, 

Landskrone  :  The  Wonder  Bridge, 

Neuenahr  :  A  Father's  Legacy. 

A I  TEN  AH  R :  A  Brave  Knight  and  a  Ciaven, 

Si nzig:  Constantine's  iCross,      .         • 

*%:    kiirg;  God's  Mercy,  •         .         • 

ttrg:  The  Specter  Wedding, 

I  u  Desecrated  Tombs, 

II  TV  •  The  Emperor's  Friend, 
Laa:  :i  '  'I  ac  ;:■■....  a  ken  Castles,    •        • 


79 
8o 

8i 

85 

88 

90 

91 
93 
95 
96 
96 
98 
98 
99 
100 

lOI 
103 

107 
108 
109 
III 

112 
116 

117 
118 
120 
121 
122 
123 
127 
129 
132 

136 

137 

138 

139 
140 

142 


CONTBNTS. 

AitDBRNACR:  T!ie  Plrophecy,    . 

The  Baker  Boys, 

The  Legend  of  St.  Genevieve, 
Sayn  :  An  Interrupted  Wedding, 
NiederwOrth  :  The  Divine  Pilgrim 
CoBLENTZ :  St.  Ritza, 

Noble  Deaths,     . 

The  Lovers, 
The  Moselle  ;  St.  Peter's  Thirst, 
CocHEM :  St.  Christopher, 
Thurant  :  A  Carousing  Army, 
Carden  :  The  Rescued  Knight, 
Niederlahnstein  :  The  Unhappy  Twins, 
Lahneck  :  The  Last  of  the  Templars, 
Stolzenfels  :  The  Pet  Raven,  . 

The  Alchemist,   .... 
Rhense  :  An  Exchange,    . 
Brey  :  The  Water  Nymphs, 

The  Nixie,  .        .        »        » 

Marksburg  :  The  Murdered  Wife,   . 
DiNKHOLD  Fountain  :  The  Spectral  Foot, 
Boppart  :  The  Emperor's  Ducking,  . 

The  Deserted  Wife,    . 
Liebenstein  and  Sterrenberg  :  The  Hostile 
Rankenberg  :  The  Giant's  Pot, 
Hirzenach  :  The  Innkeeper's  Wine, 
Ehrenthal  :  The  Steward's  Shroud. 
Werlau  :  The  Bewitched  Mine, 
St.  Goar:  Miracles  and  Shrine, 
Katzenellenbogen  :  The  Assassin  Priest, 
Thurnberg  :  The  Haunted  Castle,   . 
Reichenberg  :  Barbarossa's  Beard,   , 
Lorelei  :  The  Unhappy  Beauty, 

The  Fisherman,  ... 

A  Magic  Spell,    .... 

The  Devil's  Imprint,  .  • 
Oberwesel  :  The  Little  Martyr, 
SchOnberg  :  The  Seven  Sisters, 
Gutenfels  :  The  Emperor's  Wooing, 
Caub  :  Story  of  St.  Theonest,  . 
PfAltz  :  A  Secret  Marriage,      =         • 


Brothers 


Tfi 

rAG« 

147 

148 

149 
151 

153 

155' 

156 

158 
160 
163 

164 
165 

167 
169 
172 

174 
175 
176 

177 
178 
181 
182 

183 
185 
187 
188 
190 
193 

195 

196 

198 
199 
202 
203 
205 
206 
207 
209 
212 
212 


vin 


CONTENTS, 


CONTENTS, 


IX 


rAGS 

Bacharach  :  The  Altar  of  Bacchus, 215 

FOrstenberg  :  The  Tender  Mother, 215 

LoRCH  :  Delusive  Whispers, 2l8 

Heimburg  :  A  Cruel  Father, 220 

SoNNECK :  The  Ghost  Feast, 221 

Rheinstein  :  The  Gadfly, 223 

Falkenburg  :  The  Specter  Bride, 225 

Clemenskapelle  :  The  Robber  Knight, 229 

Ehrenfels  :  The  Bishop's  Treachery, 230 

BiNGEN  :  The  Rat  Tower, 231 

Kreuznach  :  The  Freshet, 234 

Rheingrafenstein  :  The  Devil  and  the  Donkey,     ....  234 

Sprendlingen  :  The  Butcher, 236 

Sponheim  :  The  True  Cross 236 

Dhaun  :  The  Monkey  as  Nurse 238 

Oberstein  :  A  Lifelong  Penance,      . 239 

ROdesheim  :  A  Broken  Vow, 240 

Hans  Broemser,            ...•••...  241 

Johannisberg  :  The  Corkscrews, 243 

Lange  Winkel  :  The  Silver  Bridge, 244 

Oestrich  :  The  Revengeful  Ghost, 246 

Ingelheim  :  Charlemagne  and  Elbegast,  .,.,..  247 

Kedrich  :  The  Devil's  Ladder, 249 

Elfeld  :  The  Rope  of  Hair, 251 

Bibrich  :  The  Ghostly  Interview, 252 

\yyMAifiZ  :  The  Golden  Shoes, 253 

The  Street  Sweeper, 255 

The  Thief  in  Heaven,          ..••,•,.  256 

The  Goldsmith,  ...,.,,.,.  257 

FlOrsheim  :  The  Shepherd's  Death, 258 

Falkenstein  :   The  Gnomes'  Road, 259 

The  Elopement,           . ,  261 

Frankfort  :  The  Crossing  of  the  Ford, 263 

The  Devil  and  the  Rooster, 264 

The  Great  Fire, 266 

The  Executioner  Ennobled,          .••••..  267 

The  Weather  Vane,     .       ' 268 

Hanau  :  The  Death  of  the  Innocent,         .         o         .         .         •         .  269 

Darmstadt  :  The  Virgin's  Victory,  ..,.,..  270 

Auerbach  :  The  Bewitched  Lady, 271 

^'Worms  :  The  Hoard  of  Gold, 271 


Worms  :  The  Unknown  Knight, 

The  Greatest  Wealth, 
Rodenstein  ;  The  Raging  Host, 
Oggersheim  :  The  Deserted  City. 
Heidelberg  :  Legends  of  the  Castle 

The  Dwarf  and  the  Tun,      . 
Kaiserslautern  :  Barbarossa's  Sleep, 
Speyer  :  The  Battle  of  Leipsic, 

The  Two  Bells,  . 
Philippsburg  :  The  Raw  Recruit, 
Karlsruhe  :  The  Count's  Vision, 
Bretten  :  The  Tailless  Dog,    . 
Alt  Eber stein  :  The  Court  Ball, 
Neu  Eberstein  :  The  Count's  Leap 
Baden  :  The  Devil's  Pulpit, 
Oberachern  :  The  Petrified  Church 
MOmmelsee  :  The  Water  Sprites, 
Trifels  :  The  Faithful  Minstrel, 
Zabern  :  The  Jealous  Husband, 
Strasburg  :  The  Cathedral  Legends 
The  Vow  of  Obedience, 
Conflicting  Customs,    . 
The  Hot  Porridge, 
Haslach  :  The  Giantess*  Playthings 
Eckhardtsberg  :  Tannhauser, 

The  Dumb  Plaintiff,    . 

Basel  :  The  Change  of  Time,   . 

From  Castle  to  Cot,     . 

The  Dance  of  Death,  . 

Augst  :  The  Snake  Lady, 

SAkingen  :  St.  Fridolin,    . 

The  Trumpeter  of  Sakingcn, 
KOnigsfelden  :  The  Murder, 
Habsburg  :  The  Best  Defense, 
Schaffhausen  :  The  Falls  of  the  Rhine 
Mainau  :  The  Templar's  Home, 
Buchhorn  :  The  Pilgrim's  Return, 
BiscHOFSZELL :  The  Bridge, 
S-f.  GALL  :  The  Emperor's  Riddles. 
Toggenburg  :  The  Countess  Itha, 
The  Faithful  Lover,    . 


PAGE 
272  W 

273 

274 

276*-- 

279 
280 

282 

284 

286  U^ 

287 

288 
289 
290 
291 
292 

293 
294 
296  > 
302 

304 
306 

307 
308 

310 

3" 
.  312 

314 
.  315 
.  316 

.  323 

.  324 

.  324 

.  325 

.  327 

c     327 
o    328 

.   331 
.  332 


CONTENTS. 


NiDBERG  :  The  Knight  Betrayed, 
PfAfers  :  The  Stolen  Sacrament, 
CoiRE  :  The  Prophecy, 
Farewell  to  the  Rhine,       ,         • 


Appendix, 
Index, 


PAGE 

333 
334 
335 
335 

337 
343 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATION'S. 


Rhenus  and  Moselle,  .        • 

Entrance  to  the  Zuyder  Zee, 

Lohengrin's  Farewell, 

Siegfried  and  Kriemhild,    . 

Siegfried's  Body  Borne  by  the  Huntsmen, 

General  View  of  Cologne,  with  Bridge  of 

Cologne  Cathedral  Fa9ade, 

Ursula  Landing  at  Cologne, 

Cologne  City  Hall,     . 

Aix-la-Chapelle  Cathedral, 

Vow  of  Clovis,    . 

Godesberg  Castle,       . 

Drachenburg  Castle,  . 

Rheineck  Castle,  Near  View, 

Andernach  Watch  Tower,  . 

Moselle  Bridge,  Coblentz,  . 

Tintoretto's  St.  Christopher, 

Lahneck,    .         .         .         • 

Stolzenfels  Castle,  Near  View, 

Boppart,  with  Sterrenfels  and  Liebcnstein 

Lorelei  Rock, 

Caub,  Pfaltz,  and  Gutenfels, 

Old  House  at  Bacharach, 

Sonneck  Castle, 

Rheinstein  Castle,  from  Curhaus 

Robber  Knight, 

Bingen,  Looking  Toward  the  River, 

Germania,  from  Niederwald  Monument, 

Mainz,  General  View, 

Worms  Cathedral, 

Worms  Cathedral  Choir,     . 

Heidelberg,  Elizabeth  Gate, 


Boats 


Castles, 


FronHspieee 

Facing  p. 

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t4 

20 

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38 

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40 

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XI 


xii 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Frederick  Barbarossa.     Hader,  . 

Strasburg  Cathedral, 

Basel,  Old  City  Gate, 

Basel,  Upper  Bridge  and  Cathedral, 

Farewell  to  Sakingen, 

Falls  of  the  Rhine,     . 

St.  Gall.     CharlemagnCj     •         • 

Cascade  of  Wylcr,      •         •         • 


Facing  p.  280 
296 
310 
312 
322 

324 
328 

334 


THE  RHINE  SONG. 

The  Rhine  !    That  little  word  will  be 

For  aye  a  spell  of  power  to  me, 

And  conjure  up,  in  care's  despite, 

A  thousand  visions  of  delight : 

The  Rhine  1     Oh  !  where  beneath  the  son 

Doth  our  fair  river's  rival  run  ? 

Where  dawns  the  day  upon  a  stream 

Can  in  such  changeful  beauty  shine 

Outstripping  Fancy's  wildest  dream, 

Like  our  green,  glancing,  glorious  Rhine. 


Bom  where  blooms  the  Alpine 
Cradled  in  the  Bodensee, 
Forth  the  infant  river  flows, 
Leaping  on  in  childish  glee. 
Coming  to  a  riper  age. 
He  crowns  his  rocky  cup  with  wine, 
And  makes  a  gallant  pilgrimage 
To  many  a  ruined  tower  and  shrine. 
Strong,  and  swift,  and  wild,  and  brave. 
On  he  speeds  with  crested  wave  ; 
And  spuming  aught  like  check  or  stoy. 
Fights  and  foams  along  his  way 
O'er  crag  and  shoal  until  his  flood 
Boils  like  manhood's  hasty  blood. 

— >Z0>v  and  Legends  of  the 


PREFACE. 


This  book  is  intended  as  a  contribution  to  the  study  of 
Folklore,  and  as  a  Legendary  Guide  to  the  Rhine  The 
Tales  have  been  gathered  from  many  sources,  and  while  all 
the   Rhine  traditions  are  not  recorded  here,  the  principal 

ones  have  been  given.  ^  .     „  ,,  ,u    «* 

As  Teutonic  Mythology  has  been  outlined  in  Myths  of 
Northern  Lands,"  it  has  not  been  included  in  this  volume. 
The  real  "  Nibelungenlied  "  and  the  "  Heldensagen  "  have 
also  been  omitted  because  they  form  part  of  the  author  s 
work  on  the  "  Legends  of  the  Middle  Ages." 

While  countless  German  authorities  have  been  consulted 
with  great  care,  the  author  feels  particularly  indebted  to 
Mr  Karl  Simrock,  the  German  Folk-lorist  and  Poet  of  the 
Rhine,  who  has  versified  many  of  these  picturesque  tales 

The  interest  of  a  Rhine  pilgrimage  is  more  than  doubled 
by  a  knowledge,  however  superficial,  of  the  legends  con- 
nected with  the  principal  towns,  churches,  and  castles  along 
its  banks,  so  it  is  hoped  that  tourists,  old  and  young,  will 
find  room  in  pocket  or  satchel  for  this  collection. 

The  book  is  sent  out  into  the  world  with  a  sincere  hope 
that  it  may  enhance  the  pleasure  of  travelers  and  enable 
stay-at-homes  to  glean  some  idea  of  the  legendary  charms  of 
this  matchless  river. 


INTRODUCTION 


The  Rhine  takes  its  source  in  the  St.  Gothard  mountain  in 
Switzerland,  nearly  eight  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  and 
after  an  impetuous  rush  through  rocky  passes  and  dark 
forests,  lingers,  as  if  to  gain  new  strength,  in  the  peaceful 
bosom  of  Lake  Constance. 

The  mighty  river,  still  in  its  youth,  is  only  tarrying,  how- 
ever. It  has  not  forgotten  its  mission,  and  soon  resumes  its 
course,  plunging  down  headlong  over  the  rocky  wall  at 
Schaffhausen,  hurrying  past  village  and  town,  boldly  leaping 
all  the  stumbling  blocks  which  strew  its  path,  and  boundmg 
on  without  a  moment's  pause. 

On  the  way,  many  an  Alpine  stream,  foaming  in  its  haste, 
comes  to  give  a  new  impetus  to  its  tide.  Then,  at  Basel, 
the  Rhine  takes  a  sudden  bend  northward,  leaves  Switzer- 
land, and  wends  its  sinuous  way  through  the  German 
Fatherland.  Now  hastening,  now  seeming  to  rest  in  some 
quiet  bay,  it  flows  on,  until,  swollen  by  the  waters  of  many 
tributaries,  it  enters  Holland  and  slowly  and  majestically 
rolls  its  heavy  waters  toward  the  sea. 

Like    many  other   streams  of  its  magnitude,  the   Rhine 

divides  near  its  mouth,  separates  like  the  fingers  of  a  hand, 

and  drains  off  its  waters  through  five  principal  channels. 

The  most  northerly  of  these  branches  joins  the  Yssel  and 

empties  into  the  Zuyder  Zee,  which  was  formed  by  a  terrible 

inundation  in  the  thirteenth  century.     A  canal  called  the 

I     Kromme   Rhein,    the   Waal,   which    unites  with    the   Maas, 

1    and  the  Lek,  draw  off  the  remainder  of  its  waters,  which  are 

g    finally  lost  in  the  North  Sea,  after  a  journey  of  about  eight 


I 


XYlt 


xviii 


INTRODUCTION, 


hundred  miles,   accomplished  in  two  hundred  and   twenty- 
seven  hours. 

Varied  as  the  scenery  along  its  banks  are  the  numerous 
legends  connected  with  every  point  of  interest.  These 
traditions,  which  form  a  large  part  of  the  German  Folk- 
lore, sung  by  poets  of  various  times  and  nations,  preserved 
in  many  volumes  of  ancient  and  modern  lore,  have  been 
carefully  collected,  and  will  here  be  narrated  in  their  natural 
sequence  as  we  go  up  the  mighty  river. 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE. 


STAVOREN. 

OTc  Sunken  Citi?. 

Where  the  waves  of  the  Zuyder  Zee  now  roll,  there  was 
once,  according  to  tradition,  a  blooming  and  prosperous 
tract  of  land,  and  on  the  very  spot  where  fishermen  now 
anchor  their  boats  to  cast  their  nets,  there  rose  a  beautiful 
city,  carefully  protected  from  the  ever-encroaching  sea  by 

massive  dikes. 

The  inhabitants  of  Stavoren,  for  such  was  the  name  of 
this  town,  were  very  wealthy  indeed;  so  wealthy  in  fact 
that  they  paved  their  banqueting  halls  with  shining  ducats. 
But,  in  spite  of  their  prosperity,  they  were  selfish,  hard- 
hearted, and  neglectful  of  the  poor. 

The  richest  among  them  was  a  maiden  lady,  who  had 
counting  houses,  farms,  palaces,  and  fleets,  but  whose  sole 
thought,  night  and  day,  was  how  she  might  further  increase 
her  possessions.  With  this  purpose  in  view,  she  once 
summoned  the  captain  of  her  largest  vessel,  bade  him  sail 
away  and  return  within  a  year's  time,  with  a  cargo  of  the 
most  precious  and  best  of  all  earthly  substances.  In  vain 
the  captain  questioned  her  to  know  exactly  what  she  wished ; 
she  merely  repeated  her  order  with  peremptory  emphasis, 
and  haughtily  dismissed  him. 

Forced  to  set  sail  at  a  venture,  the  captain  left  Stavoren, 
but,  not  knowing  in  what  direction  to  steer  his  course,  he 
consulted  officers  and  crew.  As  each  man  had  a  different 
opinion  concerning  the  most  precious  and  best  of  all  earthly 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


STA  VOREN. 


% 


substances,  however,  they  only  increased  his  perplexity. 
After  much  reflection,  and  the  smoking  of  many  a  pipe, 
the  Dutch  captain  concluded  that  nothing  could  be  more 
precious  than  wheat,  the  staff  of  life.  He  purchased  a 
cargo  of  the  finest  grain  at  Dantzic,  and  returned  joyfully 
to  Stavoren,  where  he  arrived  long  before  the  year  was 
ended.  The  lady,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  duly  informed  all 
her  friends  that  her  vessel  had  gone  in  search  of  a  cargo  of 
the  best  and  most  precious  of  all  earthly  things,  and  as  she 
would  not  even  confide  to  her  most  intimate  friend  what 
that  might  be,  public  curiosity  was  fully  aroused. 

But  when  her  captain  suddenly  appeared  before  her,  and 
informed  her  that  he  had  brought  a  cargo  of  wheat,  her 
complacency  vanished.  She  flew  into  a  terrible  rage,  and 
ordered  that  every  kernel  should  immediately  be  cast  into 
the  sea.  In  vain  the  captain  expostulated,  and  entreated 
that,  since  she  did  not  want  the  wheat,  it  should  be  given  to 
the  poor;  she  reiterated  her  commands,  declaring  she  would 
come  down  to  the  port  in  person,  to  make  sure  they  were 
properly  executed.  Sadly  retracing  his  steps  to  the  vessel, 
the  captain  met  several  beggars,  told  them  a  cargo  of 
wheat  was  about  to  be  thrown  away,  and  by  the  time  the 
lady  reached  the  dock,  the  poor  had  assembled  there  from 
all  parts  of  the  city,  in  hopes  of  securing  the  despised 
grain. 

In  spite  of  their  imploring  cries,  however,  the  haughty 
lady  made  the  sailors  cast  all  the  wheat  into  the  sea,  while 
the  captain,  powerless  to  hinder  this  sinful  waste,  looked  on 
in  impotent  rage.  The  last  kernel  had  vanished  beneath 
the  turbid  waters,  when  he  turned  to  his  august  mistress 
and  cried:  **As  surely  as  there  is  a  God  above  us,  you  will 
be  punished  for  this  sin, 'and  the  time  may  come  when  you, 
the  wealthiest  lady  in  Stavoren,  will  long  for  a  few  handfuls 
of  this  despised  and  squandered  wheat," 

The  lady  listened  to  these  words  in  contemptuous  silence, 
slowly  drew  a  costly  ring  from  her  white  hand,  cast  it  into 


the  sea,  and  coolly  declared  that,  when  she  saw  it  again,  she 
might  perchance  credit  his  words,  and  believe  it  possible 
that  she  should  come  to  want. 

That  self-same  evening,  in  preparing  a  fresh  fish  for 
dinner,  the  cook  found  the  costly  ring,  which  he  imme- 
diately sent  to  his  proud  mistress.  She  became  very  pale 
indeed  when  she  recognized  it.  A  few  moments  later, 
bearers  of  ill-tidings  came  rushing  in,  to  report  in  quick 
succession  the  ruin  of  her  counting  houses,  the  destruction 
of  her  fleet,  the  burning  of  her  palaces,  and  the  devastation 
of  her  farms.  In  the  course  of  a  few  hours  she  found  her- 
self shorn  of  all  her  wealth,  for  her  own  dwelling  burned 
down  to  the  ground  during  the  night,  and  she  barely 
escaped  with  her  life. 

Now  that  her  money  was  gone,  the  rich  of  Stavoren 
refused  to  recognize  her,  and  the  poor,  who  had  met  with 
nothing  but  contempt  and  ill-treatment  at  her  hands, 
allowed  her  to  die  of  hunger  and  cold  in  a  miserable  shed. 
This  sudden  downfall,  and  the  signal  punishment  of  the 
haughty  lady,  did  not  produce  any  effect  at  all  upon  the 
other  rich  people  of  Stavoren,  who  continued  to  enjoy  life 
as  before,  and  to  neglect  their  fellow-creatures;  so  a  second 
warning  was  vouchsafed  them.  Little  by  little  they  heard  that 
the  port  was  becoming  impracticable,  owing  to  the  rapid  in- 
crease of  a  sand-bar,  which  soon  rose  above  the  waters,  hinder- 
ing all  further  commerce.  This  sand-bank  was  soon  covered 
with  luxuriant  verdure.  The  people,  gazing  upon  it,  called  it 
**  The  Lady's  Sand,"  and  declared  the  vegetation  upon  it  had 
sprouted  from  the  great  quantity  of  wheat  cast  into  the  sea. 

But,  in  spite  of  its  rapid  growth,  this  wheat  bore  no 
fruit,  and  while  the  rich  cared  but  little  for  the  cessation  of 
all  traffic,  the  poor  suffered  more  sorely  still,  for  now  they 
were  even  deprived  of  the  small  pay  they  had  received  for 
their  work  of  loading  and  unloading  vessels.  The  second 
warning  had  also  fallen  upon  deaf  ears  and  been  exhibited 
before    unseeing   eyes,    yet    Providence    granted   the   rich 


4  LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE. 

another  reprieve,   and  vouchsafed  them  a   third   and   last 
warning. 

A  little  leak  was  discovered  in  the  dike,  through  which 
the  sea,  filtering  into  the  city  reservoir,  rendered  its  waters 
unpalatable.  Laughingly  the  rich  people  vowed  they 
would  drink  champagne,  since  water  could  not  be  obtained, 
but  when  the  thirsty  poor  crowded  around  their  gates, 
imploring  a  sup  of  beer,  they  rudely  dismissed  them,  declar- 
ing it  would  be  well  were  they  actually  to  die  of  thirst,  as 
they  said  they  should. 

This  last  heartless  refusal  filled  the  measure  of  their 
iniquities.  That  self-same  night,  when  the  last  reveler 
had  sunk  into  a  profound  sleep,  the  sea  noiselessly  finished 
the  work  of  destruction,  broke  down  the  dikes,  and,  burst- 
ing over  Stavoren,  submerged  the  whole  town. 

Over  the  spot  where  it  once  stood  the  waves  now  ripple 
in  I  lie  sunlight,  or  are  thrashed  into  foam  by  the  cold  winds 
sweeping  down  from  the  north.  Boatmen,  rowing  out  from 
the  dilapidated  little  fishing  town  which  alone  now  bears 
the  name  of  the  ancient  city,  sometimes  rest  upon  their 
oars,  when  the  waters  are  smooth  and  clear,  to  point  out, 
far  beneath  them,  the  palaces,  turrets,  and  ramparts  of 
Stavoren. 

The  streets,  once  so  populous  (thirty  thousand  inhabitants 
are  reported  to  have  perished  during  this  inundation),  are 
deserted,  the  market-place  empty.  No  sound  is  heard  save 
when  an  inquisitive  pike  or  herring,  swimming  though  the 
tall  belfries,  accidentally  strikes  one  of  the  bells  with  its 
flopping  tail,  and  sets  it  slowly  vibrating  in  the  depths  of 
the  sea,  where  it  seems  to  be  mournfully  tolling  the  knell  of 
the  sunken  city.* 

*  See  Note  in  Appendix, 


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BAGUM. 


HAGUE. 

The  Countess  of  Henneberg,  a  wise  and  thrifty  woman, 
was  always  busy  from  morning  until  night.  Thanks  to  her 
exertions  and  strict  economy,  her  house  was  the  wealthiest 
and  the  best  regulated  in  all  the  land,  and  her  servants  and 
dependents  lacked  nothing.  In  exchange  for  her  care,  the 
countess  exacted  from  them  all  a  close  account  of  their 
time,  and  kept  them  in  a  state  of  constant  activity. 

After  portioning  out  the  daily  tasks  and  carefully  inspect- 
ing her  household,  she  always  resorted  to  the  great  hall, 
where  all  her  maids  sat  spinning,  and  here,  while  watch- 
ing and  directing  their  labors,  her  own  wheel  hummed 
unceasingly. 

One  morning  the  aged  porter  entered  the  spinning  room, 
and  approaching  his  mistress,  respectfully  informed  her  that 
a  poor  woman  craved  a  hearing. 

*' Again,  Jan  !"  exclaimed  the  countess  in  displeasure. 
**How  many  times  must  I  tell  you  that  I  will  not  encourage 
begging  ?  Why  does  not  the  woman  work  ?  Does  she  ex- 
pect to  eat  her  bread  in  idleness  ?  Wait,  I  shall  dismiss  her 
myself  !  "  she  suddenly  added,  as  she  rose  from  her  seat, 
and  checked  her  whirling  wheel.  Giving  a  sharp  glance 
around  the  room,  and  issuing  a  distinct  command  to  waste 
no  precious  time  in  idle  conversation,  the  countess  left  the 
room  and  hurried  along  the  echoing  hall  to  the  great  door, 
where  the  poor  woman  anxiously  awaited  her. 

*' Nothing  to  eat!"  exclaimed  the  countess,  glancing  con- 
temptuously at  the  poor  woman,  standing  before  her  with  a 
bundle  of  clean  but  threadbare  garments  on  either  arm,  and 
slowly  repeating  her  last  words.  **You  must  work,  my 
good  woman.  Only  those  who  earn  their  bread  by  the 
sweat  of  their  brow  have  any  right  to  eat.  '* 

*'But,  noble   lady,  I   cannot   work;  the  children  are  so 


6  LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE. 

small  they  need  all  my  care,"  cried  the  poor  woman,  part- 
ing  the  rags  and  showing  the  pale,  pinched  faces  of  two 
puny,  new-born  babes.  **And  last  week,  only  last  week, 
gracious  lady,  my  poor  husband  was  drowned." 

''What!"  cried  the  countess,  who,  at  the  sight  of  the 
babies,  had  started  back  in  dismay.  **  Two  children,  twins! 
What  business  have  you,  a  beggar,  to  have  children  ?  '* 

**  Gracious  lady!  "  cried  the  poor  woman,  *^  the  Lord  sent 
me  these  children,  and  now  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  them  cry. 
Help  me,  lady,  help  me." 

**  My  good  woman,"  said  the  countess  reprovingly,  and 
without  paying  any  heed  to  her  appeal,  *^  the  Lord  surely 
had  nothing  to  do  with  those  children.  Do  you  suppose  He 
would  send  two  children  at  once  to  a  poor  woman  like  you, 
who  have  not  the  means  to  feed  even  one  ?  No,  no,  the 
Lord  has  more  sense.  The  Evil  One  must  have  sent  you 
those." 

**  The  Evil  One,  lady!  "  cried  the  indignant  mother,  clasp- 
ing her  babies  closer  still.  **  It  was  the  Lord  sent  them,  and 
I  trust  he  will  one  day  send  you  as  many  as  there  are  days 
in  the  year.  Then,  lady,  when  you  hear  them  cry  you  will 
understand  perhaps  what  a  mother  feels." 

With  tears  coursing  down  her  pale  face,  the  woman  turned 
and  slowly  left  the  castle,  while  the  countess,  feeling  she  had 
wasted  too  many  precious  moments  in  listening  to  her  com- 
plaints, hastened  back  to  her  wheel.  At  the  sound  of  her 
step,  accompanied  by  the  jingle  of  the  keys  she  always  wore 
at  her  girdle,  the  merry  maids  immediately  stopped  their 
innocent  chatter,  and  when  the  countess  entered  the  room 
the  shining  heads  were  all  diligently  bending  over  the  flying 
wheels,  whose  hum  filled  the  great  hall. 

But  no  matter  how  fast  the  lady  drove  her  own  wheel,  it 
seemed  to  echo  the  words  which  kept  ringing  in  her  ear: 
^*-  May  the  Lord  send  you  as  many  children  as  there  are 
days  in  the  year."  Day  after  day,  week  after  week,  month 
after  month,  the   prophecy  haunted   her,  and   her  servants 


<1 


i 


s 


\ 


HAGUE,  7 

shook  their  heads,   as  she   daily  became    more    querulous 
and  exacting. 

But  a  day  came  at  last  when  all  the  spinning  wheels  in 
the  great  hall  stood  motionless,  when  the  stools  before  them 
remained  unoccupied,  and  when,  instead  of  a  busy  hum, 
wailing  cries  echoed  throughout  the  castle.  In  answer  to 
the  beggar  woman's  prayer,  the  Lord  had  sent  three  hun- 
dred and  sixty-five  infants  at  one  birth  to  the  hard-hearted 
countess.  In  vain  she  wept  and  wrung  her  hands,  the  babes 
were  hers  and  she  could  not  disown  them.  But,  terrified  at 
the  thought  of  the  new  duties  imposed  upon  her,  driven 
almost  frantic  by  the  children's  cries,  and  especially 
appalled  at  the  vision  of  the  havoc  which  so  many  busy 
hands  and  feet  would  make  in  her  orderly  household,  the 
noble  Countess  of  Henneberg  fell  back  upon  her  pillows  and 
breathed  her  last. 

The  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  children  were  strong  and 
healthy,  so  Count  Henneberg  decreed  they  should  be  carried 
to  the  church  and  duly  baptized ;  but  as  the  exertion  required 
to  supply  them  with  individual  names  would  have  been  too 
great,  he  decided  that  all  the  boys  should  bear  the  name  of 
John  and  all  the  girls  that  of  Elizabeth, 

This  christening,  the  largest  on  record,  was  performed 
wholesale,  and  the  basin  used  for  the  ceremony  has  ever 
since  been  exhibited  as  a  curiosity,  in  one  of  the  principal 
churches  of  Hague. 

The  Henneberg  children  faithfully  kept  their  baptismal 
vow,  led  pure  and  blameless  lives,  and  their  virtues  soon 
endeared  them  to  all  their  people. 

Periodically  they  went  in  solemn  procession  to  visit  the 
countess'  grave,  which  can  still  be  seen  about  one  mile  out- 
side of  the  city  of  Hague;  and  as  they  marched  along,  their 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  voices  joined  in  a  pious  litany 
for  the  rest  of  their  high-born  mother's  soul. 


8 


LEGENDS   OF    THE   RHINE. 


FRIESLAND. 
tTbe  Cbrf0tenfit0  of  a  fcing. 

Radbod  was  King  of  the  Frisians  when  the  first  mission- 
aries, braving  every  danger,  boldly  penetrated  into  his  wild 
and  barren  country,  to  preach  Christianity,  and  bring  good 
tidings  to  the  heathen. 

Such  was  the  persuasive  eloquence  of  these  pious  men, 
that  they  finally  prevailed  upon  Radbod  himself  to  receive 
baptism,  without  which,  they  solemnly  averred,  he  would 
never  be  able  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Their  glowing  descriptions  of  Christ's  baptism  in  the 
Jordan  fired  the  king's  imagination  to  such  an  extent,  that 
he  declared  he  too  would  be  baptized  in  a  river,  and  selected 
for  that  purpose  the  mighty  Rhine,  which  bounded  his  king- 
dom on  the  south.  Accompanied  by  bishop  and  priest,  and 
attended  by  many  valiant  warriors  who  were  to  receive  the 
sacrament  at  the  same  time,  King  Radbod  marched  down 
to  the  Rhine. 

The  waves  were  rippling  round  his  feet,  and  the  bishop's 
hand  was  already  raised,  when  a  last  doubt  invaded  the 
royal  mind. 

*' Stay  thy  hand,  oh,  bishop!"  he  cried.  **  Before  I  am 
baptized  I  would  fain  ask  one  more  question.  Tell  me, 
bishop,  tell  me,  where  are  all  my  ancestors,  who  fought  so 
bravely,  ruled  so  wisely,  and  nobly  died  on  the  field  of 
battle  ?     Tell  me,  bishop,  where  are  they  ? " 

**  Oh,  king,"  answered  the  bishop  gravely,  **  thy  ancestors 
were  heathens;  as  heathens  they  lived,  and  as  heathens  they 
died.  Without  baptism  they  could  not  enter  the  kingdom 
of  heaven." 

**  Bishop,  you  have  already  told  me  that!"  exclaimed 
Radbod  impatiently,  his  royal  eyebrows  contracting  in  dis- 
pleasure.     **  But  tell  me,  if  not  in  heaven,  where  are  they? " 


GERTRUIDENBERG,  f 

*'In  hell/' solemnly  answered  the  bishop.  «'Thy  fore- 
fathers, being  heathens,  have  gone  to  hell ! " 

**To  hell  !  "  vociferated  King  Radbod,  springing  out  of 
the  water,  and  seizing  the  great  sword  he  had  flung  down 
upon  the  grass.  **To  hell!  You  villain!  Dastardly 
priest!  How  dare  you  say  my  ancestors  have  gone  to  hell  ? 
They  were  brave  and  noble  men,  they  lived  honorably,  and 
died  without  fear.  I  would  rather— yes,  by  their  god,  the 
great  Woden,  I  swear — I  would  ten  thousand  times  rather 
join  those  heroes  in  their  hell,  than  be  with  you  in  your 
heaven  of  priests  !  " 

And  turning  his  back  scornfully  upon  the  astonished 
bishop,  Radbod  brandished  his  sword  above  his  head  and 
bade  his  brave  warriors  follow  him  back  into  the  wild  forests, 
there  to  continue  worshiping,  in  peace,  the  rude  gods  of 
their  worthy  ancestors.* 


GERTRUIDENBERa 

Storg  of  St.  Ocrtru^c. 

On  the  left  bank  of  the  Waal,  not  very  far  from  its  mouth, 
is  a  slight  elevation  of  land,  known  as  the  Gertruidenberg, 
which  owes  its  name  to  the  following  tradition  : 

A  brave  and  loyal  Netherland  knight  fell  deeply  in  love 
with  a  maiden,  so  good,  and  pure,  and  lovely,  that  the  grate- 
ful poor,  in  addressing  her,  always  prefixed  the  title  of  saint 
to  her  baptismal  name  of  Gertrude.  The  maiden  could  not 
but  acknowledge  her  suitor  was  handsome,  brave,  and  worthy 
of  being  loved,  but  still  her  heart  remained  unmoved  by  all 
his  passionate  entreaties.  Convinced  that  she  could  never 
return  his  love,  and  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  his  misery, 
she  finally  announced  her  determination  to  enter  a  convent, 
and  there  spend  the  rest  of  her  life  in  the  service  of  the 
Lord. 

*  See  *•  Myths  of  Northern  Lands.** 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


When  at  last  the  irrevocable  vows  had  all  been  taken,  and 
the  convent  doors  had  opened  wide  to  receive  her;  when 
the  white  coif  and  black  veil  had  covered  her  shapely  head, 
the  poor  knight,  deprived  of  her  sweet  society,  found  life 
utterly  unendurable,  and  decided  to  leave  the  land  where 
every  sight  and  sound  constantly  reminded  him  of  his  lost 
love  and  bitter  disappointment. 

The  castles  and  broad  acres  he  had  vainly  laid  at  her  feet, 
the  wealth  he  had  hoarded  for  her  to  scatter  with  lavish 
hands,  all  his  rich  inheritance,  he  gave  to  her  convent; 
reserving  nothing  for  himself  except  his  noble  steed  and 
oft-tried  armor.  Then,  in  the  gray  light  of  early  dawn,  he 
slowly  rode  toward  the  convent,  cast  a  despairing  glance 
up  at  the  latticed  casement,  and  breathed  his  last  farewell. 

A  moment  later,  startled  by  the  prick  of  his  master's 
spurs,  the  noble  steed  started  off  with  a  bound,  and  soon 
bore  the  heart-broken  knight  far  out  of  sight  of  his  ances- 
tral home  and  of  the  old  convent  walls.  All  day  long  he 
rode  straight  onward,  sunk  in  mournful  meditation,  and  only 
when  night  began  to  fall  did  he  raise  his  head  and  begin 
to  look  about  him  for  shelter  and  food.  But,  although  he 
peered  anxiously  about  through  the  gathering  gloom,  he 
could  not  discern  the  trace  of  any  path  or  dwelling  upon 
the  bleak  moorland.  Hour  after  hour  he  wandered  on, 
hoping  to  find  a  place  where  his  weary,  stumbling  steed 
might  rest,  when  suddenly  a  dimly  outlined  figure  appeared 
before  him,  and  the  midnight  silence  was  broken  by  a  voice 

saying: 

**  Pause,  oh,  knight;  do  not  despair!  I  know  your  sorrow 
and  would  fain  allay  it.  If  you  will  only  pledge  me  your 
soul— wealth,  honor,  prosperity,  and  all  the  joys  of  your  lost 
youth  shall  fall  to  your  lot." 

The  low,  insinuating  tones,  the  tempting  offer,  the  terrible 
condition  attached  to  it,  and  a  faint  odor  of  sulphur  and 
brimstone  diffused  over  the  moorland,  enabled  the  knight 
to  recognize  his  interlocutor  in  spite  of  the  pitchy  darkness. 


GER  TR  UIDENBERG. 


\  f 


Disappointed  lovers  have  often  professed  to  be  utterly 
indifferent  whether  his  Satanic  Majesty  take  possession  of 
them  or  not;  and  this  feeling,  which  is  said  to  be  quite 
common  in  our  enhghtened  age,  was  already  in  the  fashion 
in  early  times,  and  prompted  the  despondent  knight  to 
answer: 

**'Tis  a  bargain,  Satan.  Give  me  wealth  and  honor, 
grant  me  success  in  arms,  and  my  soul  is  yours." 

*'Good!"  exclaimed  the  figure  shrouded  in  darkness. 
**Name  the  number  of  years  you  would  live,  sign  this 
pledge,  and  all  shall  be  as  you  wish." 

A  year,  in  youth  and  love,  seems  almost  endless.  The 
knight,  who  was  still  very  young,  and  whose  love  was 
utterly  hopeless,  quickly  concluded  that  seven  years  would 
allow  him  time  enough  to  taste  to  the  dregs  the  few  joys 
which  remained  for  him,  and  to  grow  quite  weary  of  life. 

"Seven  years  and  no  more!     Seven  years  will  suffice!  " 
he  cried,  as   he  signed   the  pledge  with  his  life-blood  and 
sealed  it  with  his  armorial  ring. 
He  was  about  to  depart,  when  the  Evil  One  cried: 
*'  Remember,  oh,  knight,  when  the  seven  years  are  over, 
and  the  twelfth  hour  of  the  last  night  has  come,   I  shall 
await  you  here,  on  the  lonely  moorland,  to  claim  your  soul." 
**The  word  of  a  knight  is  inviolable,  even  when  given  to 
such  as  you!"    proudly  answered  the  knight.      *'In  seven 
years,   at  midnight,   I  shall  be  here,   but  until  then  I  am 
free." 

A  moment  later,  the  sound  of  his  horse's  galloping  hoofs 
died  away,  the  sulphurous  odor  vanished,  and  the  lonely 
moorland  lay  still,  cold,  and  deserted. 

From  court  to  court  the  knight  now  wandered,  scattering 
with  lavish  generosity  the  wealth  which  Satan  provided  with- 
out stint,  and  wherever  he  went,  his  astounding  deeds  of 
valor  won  him  the  warmest  praise.  No  matter  how  brave 
his  opponent,  he  was  always  victor  in  the  fight,  and  taught 
the  proudest  heads  to  bow  at  his  lady's  name. 


12 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


In  jousts,  pageants,  and  tournaments  the  years  passed  by 
all  too  quickly,  and,  as  the  seventh  neared  its  end,  the  knight 
was  troubled  in  spirit.  The  longing  to  see  his  beloved  once 
more  before  he  met  his  self-imposed  doom  finally  brought 
him  back  to  the  Netherlands,  and  guided  his  steps  to  the 
banks  of  the  mighty  river.  The  sight  of  the  familiar  con- 
vent walls  brought  hot  tears  to  his  eyes,  and  made  his  heart 
beat  fast  with  anxiety.  What  if  that  roof  no  longer  shel- 
tered Gertrude  ?  What  if  another  now  occupied  the  tiny 
cell  and  gazed  out  of  the  latticed  window  ? 

These  thoughts  caused  him  so  much  emotion  that  it  was 
only  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  he  managed  to  make  the 
portress  understand  him. 

What  was  not  his  joy  and  relief,  therefore,  when  he  heard 
that  Gertrude  was  still  there,  the  light  and  hope  of  the  con- 
vent, and  the  guardian  an^el  of  all  the  poor. 

Admitted  into  her  presence,  the  gentle  tones  of  her 
beloved  voice  ringing  in  his  ear,  and  her  sweet  eyes  fixed  in 
pity  upon  him,  the  unfortunate  knight  fell  upon  his  knees, 
and  penitently  confessed  the  story  of  his  midnight  encounter, 
of  the  seven  years  of  aimless,  wandering  life,  and  his  longing 
to  behold  her  once  more  ere  he  went  to  meet  his  fate. 

**And  now,  beloved,  farewell!"  he  cried,  as  he  staggered 
to  his  feet  to  leave  her  presence.  *'At  midnight,  on  the 
lonely  moorland,  I  must  meet  my  doom.     Farewell!  " 

Gertrude,  who  with  dilated  eyes  and  pallid  cheeks  had 
listened  to  his  tale,  sprang  forward  and  cried: 

"Stop,  sir  knight!  Before  you  leave  me  you  must 
drink  this,"  and  the  little  hands  trembled  as  she  poured 
some  wine  into  a  cup  and  handed  it  to  him.  **  Drink! 
With  the  blessing  of  my  holy  patron  St.  John,  and  under 
the  safeguard  of  my  love,*  it  will  surely  enable  you  to 
return  "  * 

The  knight  took  the  cup  from  her  hand,  and,  mournfully 
gazing  into  her  beautiful  eyes,  exclaimed: 

*  See  Note  2  in  Appendix. 


KEVLAAR. 


n 


"I  drink  to  you,  O  Gertrude!  The  only  prayer  I  am 
worthy  to  utter  is,  '  God  bless  you.'  " 

A  moment  later  he  had  gone  to  keep  his  midnight  tryst. 
Darkness  rested  upon  the  moorland,  and  his  charger  slowly 
stumbled  on.  The  fatal  hour  had  come.  Satan,  who  in 
spite  of  his  numerous  other  failings  has  never  yet  been 
known  to  miss  an  appointment,  appeared  before  him  as 
suddenly  as  on  the  previous  occasion,  but  instead  of  pounc- 
ing upon  him,  cried  in  evident  terror: 

**  Pause,  oh,  knight;  I  beseech  you,  pause!  I  will  give 
you  back  your  promise,  and  will  restore  your  pledge  also,  if 
you  will  only  stay  where  you  are.  She  whom  you  love,  she 
to  whom  you  last  drank,  has  contended  successfully  for  your 
soul.  Before  such  prayers  as  hers  even  my  might  is  power- 
less.    You  are  free,  sir  knight.     Farewell  I  " 

With  a  howl  of  baffled  rage  the  fiend  then  vanished, 
leaving  the  knight  alone  on  the  gloomy  moorland.  Slowly 
and  thoughtfully  he  wended  his  way  back  to  the  old  con- 
vent, and  there,  in  the  quiet  parlor,  he  registered  a  solemn 
vow  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  the  service  of  the 
saint  who  had  answered  his  beloved's  prayer. 

It  was  thus  a  gentle  maiden  guided  the  steps  of  an  erring 
knight,  away  from  the  path  of  sin  and  into  the  narrow  way 
of  peace.  In  commemoration  of  this  deed,  her  name  has 
been  given  to  the  eminence  where  her  convent  once  stood, 
which  is  still  called  the  Gertruidenberg. 


KEVLAAIt 

Cbc  Dilarfftiaae  to  fccviaar. 
I. 

The  mother  stood  at  the  window  ; 
Her  son  lay  in  bed,  alas  ! 
•'  Will  you  not  get  up,  dear  William, 
To  see  the  procession  pass  ?  " 


12 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


In  jousts,  pageants,  and  tournaments  the  years  passed  by- 
all  too  quickly,  and,  as  the  seventh  neared  its  end,  the  knight 
was  troubled  in  spirit.  The  longing  to  see  his  beloved  once 
more  before  he  met  his  self-imposed  doom  finally  brought 
him  back  to  the  Netherlands,  and  guided  his  steps  to  the 
banks  of  the  mighty  river.  The  sight  of  the  familiar  con- 
vent walls  brought  hot  tears  to  his  eyes,  and  made  his  heart 
beat  fast  with  anxiety.  What  if  that  roof  no  longer  shel- 
tered Gertrude  ?  What  if  another  now  occupied  the  tiny 
cell  and  gazed  out  of  the  latticed  window  ? 

These  thoughts  caused  him  so  much  emotion  that  it  was 
only  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  he  managed  to  make  the 
portress  understand  him. 

What  was  not  his  joy  and  relief,  therefore,  when  he  heard 
that  Gertrude  was  still  there,  the  light  and  hope  of  the  con- 
vent, and  the  guardian  angel  of  all  the  poor. 

Admitted  into  her  presence,  the  gentle  tones  of  her 
beloved  voice  ringing  in  his  ear,  and  her  sweet  eyes  fixed  in 
pity  upon  him,  the  unfortunate  knight  fell  upon  his  knees, 
and  penitently  confessed  the  story  of  his  midnight  encounter, 
of  the  seven  years  of  aimless,  wandering  life,  and  his  longing 
to  behold  her  once  more  ere  he  went  to  meet  his  fate. 

'*And  now,  beloved,  farewell!"  he  cried,  as  he  staggered 
to  his  feet  to  leave  her  presence.  *' At  midnight,  on  the 
lonely  moorland,  I  must  meet  my  doom.     Farewell !  " 

Gertrude,  who  with  dilated  eyes  and  pallid  cheeks  had 
listened  to  his  tale,  sprang  forward  and  cried: 

<*Stop,  sir  knight!  Before  you  leave  me  you  must 
drink  this,"  and  the  little  hands  trembled  as  she  poured 
some  wine  into  a  cup  and  handed  it  to  him.  **  Drink! 
With  the  blessing  of  my  holy  patron  St.  John,  and  under 
the  safeguard  of  my  love,*  it  will  surely  enable  you  to 
return." * 

The  knight  took  the  cup  from  her  hand,  and,  mournfully 
gazing  into  her  beautiful  eyes,  exclaimed: 

♦  See  Note  2  in  Appendix. 


KEVLAAR, 


n 


"I  drink  to  you,  O  Gertrude!  The  only  prayer  I  am 
worthy  to  utter  is,  '  God  bless  you.*  " 

A  moment  later  he  had  gone  to  keep  his  midnight  tryst. 
Darkness  rested  upon  the  moorland,  and  his  charger  slowly 
stumbled  on.  The  fatal  hour  had  come.  Satan,  who  in 
spite  of  his  numerous  other  failings  has  never  yet  been 
known  to  miss  an  appointment,  appeared  before  him  as 
suddenly  as  on  the  previous  occasion,  but  instead  of  pounc- 
ing upon  him,  cried  in  evident  terror: 

**  Pause,  oh,  knight;  I  beseech  you,  pause!  I  will  give 
you  back  your  promise,  and  will  restore  your  pledge  also,  if 
you  will  only  stay  where  you  are.  She  whom  you  love,  she 
to  whom  you  last  drank,  has  contended  successfully  for  your 
soul.  Before  such  prayers  as  hers  even  my  might  is  power- 
less.    You  are  free,  sir  knight.     Farewell  !  " 

With  a  howl  of  baffled  rage  the  fiend  then  vanished, 
leaving  the  knight  alone  on  the  gloomy  moorland.  Slowly 
and  thoughtfully  he  wended  his  way  back  to  the  old  con- 
vent, and  there,  in  the  quiet  parlor,  he  registered  a  solemn 
vow  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  the  service  of  the 
saint  who  had  answered  his  beloved's  prayer. 

It  was  thus  a  gentle  maiden  guided  the  steps  of  an  erring 
knight,  away  from  the  path  of  sin  and  into  the  narrow  way 
of  peace.  In  commemoration  of  this  deed,  her  name  has 
been  given  to  the  eminence  where  her  convent  once  stood, 
which  is  still  called  the  Gertruidenberg. 


KEVLAAR, 

y43C  pilartmnac  to  Icerlaar. 
I. 

The  mother  stood  at  the  window  ; 
Her  son  lay  in  bed,  alas  ! 
•'  Will  you  not  get  up,  dear  William, 
To  see  the  procession  pass  ?  *' 


14 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 

•*  Oh,  mother,  I  am  so  ailing, 
I  neither  can  hear  nor  see  ; 
I  think  of  my  poor  dead  Gretchen, 
And  my  heart  grows  faint  in  me." 

**  Get  up,  we  will  go  to  Kevlaar  } 
Your  book  and  rosary  take  ; 
The  Mother  of  God  will  heal  you. 
And  cure  your  heart  of  its  ache/* 

The  Church's  banners  are  waving. 
They  are  chanting  a  hymn  divine  ; 
Tis  at  Ciillen  is  that  procession, 
At  COllen  upon  the  Rhine. 

With  the  throng  the  mother  follows  ; 
Her  son  she  leads  ;  and  now 
They  both  of  them  sing  in  the  chorus, 
*  Ever  honored,  O  Mary,  be  thou  I  " 

'   11. 

The  Mother  of  God  at  Kevlaar, 
Is  dressed  in  her  richest  array  ; 
She  has  many  a  cure  on  hand  there. 
Many  sick  folk  come  to  her  to-day. 

And  her,  for  their  votive  offerings. 
The  suffering  sick  folk  greet 
With  limbs  that  in  wax  are  molded. 
Many  waxen  hands  and  feet. 

And  whoso  a  wax  hand  offers. 
His  hand  is  healed  of  its  sore  ; 
And  whoso  a  wax  foot  offers, 
His  foot  it  will  pain  him  no  more. 

To  Kevlaar  went  many  on  crutches 
Who  now  on  the  tight  rope  bound, 
And  many  play  now  on  the  fiddle 
Had  there  not  one  finger  sound. 

The  mother  she  took  a  wax  taper. 
And  of  it  a  heart  she  makes : 
•*  Give  that  to  the  Mother  of  Jesus, 
She  will  cure  thee  of  all  thy  aches." 


f 


KEVLAAR, 

With  a  sigh  her  son  took  the  wax  heart, 
He  went  to  the  shrine  with  a  sigh  ; 
His  words  from  his  heart  trickle  sadly. 
As  trickle  the  tears  from  his  eye. 

"  Thou  blessed  above  all  that  are  blessed, 
Thou  Virgin  unspotted,  divine, 
Thou  Queen  of  the  Heavens,  before  thee 
I  lay  all  my  anguish  and  pine. 

"  I  lived  with  my  mother  at  CCllen  ; 
At  CoUen,  in  the  town  that  is  there, 
The  town  that  has  hundreds  many 
Of  chapels  and  churches  fair. 

"And  Gretchen  she  lived  there  near  us. 
But  now  she  is  dead,  well-a-day  ! 
O  Mary  !  a  wax  heart  I  bring  thee, 
Heal  thou  my  heart's  wound,  I  pray ! 

"  Heal  thou  my  heart  of  its  anguish, 

And  early  and  late,  I  vow. 

With  its  whole  strength  to  pray  and  to  sing,  too, 

Ever  honored,  O  Mary,  be  thou  ! 


»5 


%% 


III. 

The  suffering  son  and  his  mother 
In  their  little  bed-chamber  slept ; 
Then  the  Mother  of  God  came  softly. 
And  close  to  the  sleepers  crept. 

She  bent  down  over  the  sick  one. 
And  softly  her  hand  did  lay 
On  his  heart,  with  a  smile  so  tender. 
And  presently  vanished  away. 

The  mother  sees  all  in  her  dreaming, 
And  other  things  too  she  mark'd  ; 
Then  from  her  slumber  she  wakened. 
So  loudly  the  town  dogs  bark'd. 

There  lay  her  son,  to  his  full  length 
Stretched  out,  and  he  was  dead  ;  * 
And  the  light  on  his  pale  cheek  flitted. 
Of  the  morning's  dawning  red. 

*  See  Note  3  in  Appendix. 


i6 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 

She  folded  her  hands  together, 
She  felt  as  she  knew  not  how. 
And  softly  she  sang  and  devoutly, 
"  Ever  honored,  O  Mary,  be  thou  ! " 

— Poem  by  Heine ^  translated  by  Bowring, 


CLEVES. 
Zhc  Swan  ikniQhU 

The  next  places  of  legendary  interest  along  the  Rhine 
are  the  small  town  of  Nymwegen  and  the  Duchy  of  Cleves, 
concerning  which  almost  similar  traditions  have  come  down 
to  us.  The  legend  of  Cleves,  the  subject  of  many  poems 
and  of  one  immortal  opera,  is  as  follows: 

Elsa,  the  only  daughter  and  sole  heiress  of  the  Duke  of 
Luneburg  and  Brabant,  had  been  intrusted  to  the  care  of 
Frederick  of  Telramund,  one  of  her  father's  most  powerful 
vassals.      But  instead  of  giving  the  orphan  maiden  the  pro- 
tection her  loneliness  required,  this  man  tried  to  force  her 
to  marry  him  that  he  might  obtain  possession  of  her  estates. 
In  vain  the  lovely  Elsa  declared  she  did  not  love  him,  in 
vain  she  appealed  to  his  chivalry,  he  ruthlessly  thrust  her 
into    a  damp  prison,   close  by  the  rushing  river,   there  to 
languish  in  solitude  until  she  was  ready  to  do  his  will.     A 
desperate  appeal  to  Henry  I.   the  Fowler  only  elicited  an 
imperial  decree  that  the  matter  should  be  settled  in  the  lists 
between  Frederick  of  Telramund  and  a  champion  of  Elsa's 
choice.     Elsa's   heart  sank   when   she   heard  this  decision, 
for  she  knew  full  well  that  no  knight  of  the  neighborhood' 
however  brave,  would  dare  accept  the  challenge  of  one  who 
had  never  yet  suffered  defeat  or  given  quarter.     Her  appre- 
hensions were  only  too  well  founded,  for  day  after  day,  the 
herald  vainly  sought  someone  to  battle  for  her  rights. 

Forsaken  by  all,  the  orphan   maiden  now   turned  to  the 


CLE  VES, 

Helper  of  the  helpless.  Night  and  day  she  knelt  in  her 
narrow  cell,  imploring  aid,  and  in  her  anguish  she  smote 
her  breast  with  the  rosary  clasped  in  her  little  hands,  until 
the  tiny  bell  attached  to  it  gave  forth  a  low,  tinkling  sound. 
These  silvery  tones,  so  faint  and  soft  they  could  scarcely 
be  heard  above  the  roar  of  the  waters  rushing  past  the 
tower,  floated  out  through  the  narrow  window  into  the 
open  air,  and  were  caught  up  by  the  winds  of  heaven  and 
rapidly  whirled  away.  And  as  they  traveled  farther  and 
farther,  they  increased  in  power  and  volume,  until  it  seemed 
as  if  all  the  bells  on  earth  had  united  to  ring  forth  one 
grand,  deafening  peal. 

These  loud  and  importunate  tones  penetrated  even  into 
the  far  distant  temple  on  Montsalvat,  where  King  Parsifal 
and  his  train  of  dauntless  knights  kept  constant  watch 
over  the  Holy  Grail.  Anxiously,  therefore,  the  king 
hastened  into  the  inner  sanctuary,  where  the  vase  diffused 
its  rosy  light,  hoping  to  read  on  its  luminous  edge  the  will 
of  Heaven. 

**Send  Lohengrin  to  defend  his  future  bride,  but  let  her 
trust  him  and  never  seek  to  know  his  origin  !  "  These  were 
the  mysterious  words  which  met  the  aged  king's  eye,  and 
which  he  immediately  reported  to  his  son.  The  brave 
young  Lohengrin,  trained  to  receive  the  commands  of  the 
Holy  Grail  with  implicit  faith,  donned  his  armor,  spoke  his 
farewells,  and  then  and  there  prepared  to  mount  his  waiting 
steed. 

Suddenly  a  melody,  such  as  had  never  yet  been  heard  on 
land  or  sea,  fell  upon  his  ean  Soft,  low,  and  sweet,  it  rose 
and  fell  and  rose  again,  as  a  snowy  swan  came  floating 
toward  him,  drawing  a  little  skiff  in  its  wake.  Nearer  and 
nearer  came  the  stately  swan,  clearer  and  sweeter  rose  the 
mystic  strain,  until  both  came  to  a  pause,  close  by  the  shore 
where  the  knight  stood  as  if  entranced. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Lohengrin  sprang  into  the 
fairy  skiff,  and  the  swan,   resuming  its  melody,  soon  bore 


i8 


M 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


CLEVES. 


«9 


him  out  of  sight.  The  day  appointed  for  the  tournament 
had  dawned,  the  last  preparations  had  been  made;  but, 
among  all  the  brave  knights  assembled  to  witness  the 
pageant,  not  one  dared  to  offer  himself  as  champion  for 
the  lovely  maiden,  who  clung  to  her  prison  bars,  tearfully 
repeating,  for  the  last  time,  her  agonized  prayer:  '^Send 
Thou  the  deliverer,  O  Lord  !  "  All  at  once  her  sobs  were 
checked,  for  the  far-away  sound  of  music  fell  comfortingly 
upon  her  ear.  Bending  forward  eagerly,  she  soon  descried 
a  spotless  swan  floating  gently  down  the  stream,  skillfully 
guiding  a  little  boat,  in  which  a  radiant  knight,  attired  in 
full  armor,  lay  fast  asleep  on  a  glittering  shield.  Just  as 
the  swan  passed  beneath  the  window  where  Elsa  stood,  the 
knight  awoke,  and  his  first  conscious  glance  rested  upon 
her  tear-stained  face.  ' 

''  Weep  no  more,  oh,  jnaiden!  "  he  cried,  springing  to  his 
feet.     **  Fear  nought !  I  have  come  to  defend  thee  !  " 

As  the  skiff  passed  on  down  the  river,  the  prison  door 
opened,  and  Frederick  of  Telramund  appeared  to  lead  Elsa 
to  the  lists.  And  as  the  herald  began,  for  the  third  and  last 
time,  to  summon  a  champion  to  present  himself  and  main- 
tain the  rights  of  the  noble  young  duchess,  a  smile  of 
insolent  triumph  curled  his  cruel  lips.  The  last  flourish  of 
the  trumpets  died  away  and  Frederick  of  Telramund  was 
about  to  address  Elsa,  when  a  ringing  voice  proclaimed: 
**Here  am  I,  the  Swan  Knight,  ready  to  do  battle  for  the 
duchess'  rights,  and  win  her  cause  or  die  !  '* 

A  murmur  of  involuntary  admiration  burst  from  the 
crowd  of  spectators,  as  they  simultaneously  turned  toward 
the  Rhine,  and  there  beheld  a  handsome  knight,  standing 
erect  in  a  tiny  skiff  drawn  by  a  swan.  Spellbound  they 
watched  him  spring  lightly  ashore  and  dismiss  the  swan, 
which  floated  down  the  river  and  out  of  sight,  to  the  tune 
of  its  own  beautiful,  dreamy  song. 

Then,  for  a  moment,  Lohengrin  knelt  at  Elsa's  feet, 
registering  a  solemn  vow  to  save  her,  and  vaulting  upon  a 


'k 


waiting  steed,  drew  down  his  visor  and  took  his  place  in 
the  lists.  The  noble  knights  and  ladies  trembled  with  fear 
when  they  beheld  the  terrible  onslaught  of  Frederick  of 
Telramund,  whose  stature  was  that  of  a  giant,  but  their 
fear  was  changed  into  admiration,  when  they  saw  the  dex- 
terity with  which  the  unknown  knight  parried  or  evaded  his 
crashing  blows. 

In  breathless  silence  they  watched  the  conflict;  nought 
was   heard  but  the  clank  of  steel,  the  heavy  breathing  of 
the  combatants,  and  the  tramp  of  their  horses'  feet,  while 
clouds  of  dust  almost  concealed   them  from  the  spectators' 
eyes.       Suddenly  a  terrible  blow  was   heard,    the  gigantic 
frame  of  Frederick  of  Telramund  was  seen  to  sway  for  a 
moment  in  the  saddle  ere  it  fell  and  rolled  in  the  dust!     In 
a  second    Lohengrin   had  dismounted  and  stood  with  one 
foot  on    his  rival's   breast,   summoning  him    to   surrender. 
Triumphant    cries,  and  jubilant  trumpets   proclaimed   the 
victory,  and  cheer  after  cheer  rang  through  the  summer  air, 
as   Lohengrin  knelt  before   Elsa   once   more.     The  multi- 
tude's exultant  cries  were  so  loud  and  prolonged,  that  they 
almost  drowned  Elsa's  sweet  voice,  as  she  bade  her  cham- 
pion rise  and  name  his  own  reward. 

But,  although  unheeded  by  the  enthusiastic  assembly,  not 
one  of  the  low-spoken  tones  had  been  lost  by  Lohengrin, 
who  passionately  replied: 

**  Tempt  me  not,  oh,  noble  lady!  Here  at  your  feet,  where 
I  fain  would  linger  forever,  I  cannot  but  confess  hov/ 
ardently  I  love  you,  and  how  sweet  is  the  hope  I  cherish 
some  day  to  claim  your  hand." 

The  pretty  flush  on  Elsa's  soft  cheeks  deepened  percep- 
tibly at  these  words,  and  the  long  lashes  drooped  over  her 
beautiful  eyes  as  she  timidly  held  out  her  hand  and  softly 
whispered: 

**  You  saved  me,  sir  knight,  I  am  yours  !  " 
Not  a  syllable  of  this  short  but  interesting  colloquy  had 
been  heard   by  the  shouting  assembly,  whose  acclamations 


JO 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE. 


redoubled  as  the  knight  bent  low  over  the  little  hand  so 
trustingly  confided  to  his  keeping,  and  fervently  pressed  it 
to  his  lips. 

Before  night,  however,  the  rumor  of  the  young  duchess- 
betrothal   to   the  gallant    Swan   Knight  had   been   noised 
abroad,  and  preparations  for  the  marriage  ceremony  were 
begun  without  any  further  delay.     Elsa,  who  had  trembled 
with  fear  at  the  mere  thought  of  an  union  with  Frederick  of 
1  elramund,  showed  no  reluctance  whatever  to  pledge  her 
troth  to  her  valiant  champion,  nor  did  she  even  waver  for  a 
moment  in  her  allegiance  to  him,  when  he  informed  her  that 
she  must  never  seek  to  know  either  his  name  or  origin 
which   must  remain  a  secret  from  her   and    from  all  the 
people,  unless  they  would  part  forever. 

The  marriage  was  celebrated  with  much  pomp,  the  young 
couple  lived  in  blessed  and  peaceful  union,  and  the  love  so 
suddenly  kindled  increased  in  depth  and  fervor,  as  one  by 
one  three  beautiful  children  came  to  add  to  their  happiness 
and  gladden  their  home. 

But  Elsa,  although  utterly  content  with  her  husband's 
unalterable  love  and  devotion,  could  not  help  but  notice 
that  many  of  her  subjects  secretly  mistrusted  him,  and  con- 
stantly tried,  by  every  means  in  their  power,  to  discover  his 
name  and  station. 

Little  by  little,  she  too  began  to  ponder  upon  the  sub- 
ject, and  the  more  she  thought  of  it,  the  more  she  longed 
to  know  her  husband's  secret.  Finally,  curiosity  prevailed 
over  prudence,  and  while  seated  beside  him  one  day,  she 
turned  toward  him  and  abruptly  asked  the  forbidden 
question. 

"Elsa!  Elsa!  Is  your  faith  dead?"  cried  the  Swan 
Knight,  m  passionate,  broken-accents.  "  Can  you  no  longer 
trust  me  .?  I  love  you  so,  and  now  I  must  leave  you.  Our 
happiness  is  at  an  end!  But,  before  I  go,  your  question 
shall  be  answered.     Come  with  me  !  " 

His  pale  face  and  despairing,  reproachful  glance  brought 


LOHE.VGRIN'S    FAREWELL. 


I'ixis. 


CLEVES. 


2-  1 


Elsa  to  her  senses.  With  a  loving  cry  she  flung  herself  on 
his  breast,  entreating  him  to  forgive  and  forget  her  unfor- 
tunate curiosity,  but  he  mournfully  shook  his  head  and 
replied : 

**It  is  too  late,  Elsa,  too  late!  You  have  doubted  me,  so 
I  must  leave  you,  but  before  I  go  you  shall  know  all.'* 

The  knights  assembled  in  the  great  banqueting  hall 
near  the  Rhine,  started  up  in  surprise  when  their  master 
suddenly  appeared  in  their  midst,  leading  the  pale  and  weep- 
ing Elsa  gently  by  the  hand. 

''Listen,  oh,  knights,"  he  suddenly  began,  breaking  the 
expectant  silence.  **The  time  has  come  when  I  must  leave 
you;  but,  before  I  go,  it  is  right  that  you  should  know  that 
I,  Lohengrin,  son  of  Parsifal,  the  world-renowned  king,  was 
sent  hither  by  the  Holy  Grail,  to  save  your  duchess  from 
the  oppressor's  hand,  Now  the  Holy  Vessel  summons  me, 
and  I  must  go,  but  ere  I  depart,  I  enjoin  upon  you  to  watch 
faithfully  over  my  little  ones  and  to  wipe  away  their  mother's 
tears.     Farewell  !  " 

Then,  in  the  midst  of  the  awe-struck  silence  which  fol- 
lowed these  words,  while  he  held  Elsa  in  a  last  fond  embrace, 
the  low  strains  of  mystic  music  again  came  floating  down 
the  Rhine,  and  a  moment  later  the  swan  appeared. 

Slowly  and  reluctantly  Lohengrin  tore  himself  away  from 
Elsa's  clinging,  passionate  embrace,  sprang  down  the  steps 
and  into  the  waiting  swan-boat,  which  glided  away  to  the 
sound  of  plaintive  music,  and  bore  him  out  of  sight  forever 

In  vain  Elsa  wept,  prayed,  and  beat  her  breast  with  hei 
rosary,  the  sound  of  the  tinkling  silver  bell  never  again 
broke  the  peaceful  silence  which  brooded  over  the  temple  on 
Montsalvat,  where  Lohengrm  had  resumed  his  watch  over 
the  Holy  Grail* 

*  See  Note  4  in  Appendix. 


22 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE. 


c:be  prfnce'6  IDow* 

Otto,  the  youngest  son  of  the  noble  family  of  Hesse, 
destined  from  his  cradle  to  enter  a  monastery  and  there 
spend  his  life  in  a  calling  from  which  his  ardent  young 
spirit  recoiled  in  horror,  could  not  resign  himself  to  meet 
his  fate. 

Alone,  therefore,  and  in  the  dead  of  night,  he  effected  his 
escape  from  home  disguised  as  an  archer,  and  bravely  set 
out  to  seek  his  fortune.  Several  days'  journey  brought  him 
at  last  to  Cleves,  where  his  distinguished  appearance,  and  the 
great  skill  he  manifested  in  handling  the  cross-bow,  soon 
won  the  duke's  favor. 

Knights  and  ladies  of  high  degree  crowded  around 
him,  and  enthusiasticaljy  applauded  his  unerring  aim, 
but  no  praise  seemed  to  gratify  him  half  as  much  as 
the  radiant  smile  with  which  the  duke's  lovely  daugh- 
ter hailed  each  successful  shot.  For,  mvisible  to  all  the 
noble  assembly,  another  archer,  of  proverbial  dexterity, 
had  slyly  drawn  his  bow,  and  sent  two  darts  to  rankle 
in  the  impressionable  hearts  of  Otto  and  the  fair  young 
duchess. 

Hour  after  hour,  and  day  after  day,  Otto  most  diligently 
practiced  shooting  beneath  a  certain  window,  where  the 
duke's  only  daughter  appeared  from  time  to  time  to  encour- 
age him  by  a  smile  or  by  a  fleeting  gesture.  One  day,  when 
our  enamored  young  archer  was  thus  agreeably  occupied, 
the  arrival  of  a  knight  and  his  suite  caused  him  for  a  moment 
to  stay  his  hand. 

Instead  of  pausing  to  answer  the  duke's  stately  welcome, 
this  stranger  suddenly  rushed  forward  and  fell  at  Otto's 
feet  with  the  joyful  cry:  *'My  lord  and  master,  I  have 
found  you  at  last  ! "  A  second  later,  however,  the  knight 
knelt  there  alone,  for  Otto,  with  a  passionate  gesture  of 
farewell  to  the  maiden  at  the  window,  had  darted  through 


CLE  VES. 


23 


the  open  gate  with  the  speed  of  one  of  his  own  arrows,  and 
had  vanished  in  the  neighboring  forest. 

Slowly  the  knight  rose  to  his  feet,  gazed  at  the  fleet- 
footed  youth  until  he  was  lost  to  sight,  and  then  turned  to 
answer  the  duke,  who  had  been  a  silent  but  astonished 
witness  of  the  whole  scene.  The  usual  courtesies  were 
exchanged,  the  banquet  spread,  the  topics  of  the  day  duly 
discussed,  and  when  all  the  assistants  had  withdrawn  and 
the  knight  found  himself  alone  with  his  noble  host,  he  be- 
gan to  explain  who  he  was,  and  the  cause  of  his  strange 
behavior. 

A  few  words  soon  revealed  to  the  Duke  of  Cleves  that 
his  archer,  Otto,  was  now  the  sole  hope  and  heir  of  his  noble 
race,  his  elder  brothers  having  both  died  without  issue. 
Various  details  were  added  by  the  knight,  who  asserted 
that  an  intense  aversion  for  monastic  life  was  the  only  thing 
which  could  have  occasioned  the  young  heir's  precipitate 
flight. 

**The  lad  is  a  remarkably  good  archer,"  exclaimed  the 
duke,  laughing  heartily;  **  but  methinks  I  can  yet  force  him 
to  acknowledge  I  am  a  better  marksman  than  he." 

And  then,  while  slowly  sipping  his  Rhine  wine,  the  duke 
proposed  a  plan  for  the  recovery  of  the  fugitive  prince. 
It  was  joyfully  welcomed  by  the  Count  of  Homberg,  who 
bade  him  lose  no  time  in  putting  it  into  execution.  At  the 
duke's  call,  archers,  knights,  and  men-at-arms  crowded  into 
the  hall,  where  they  received  orders  to  sally  forth  and  not 
return  until  they  had  captured  the  missing  youth. 

**But,  I  solemnly  charge  you,  not  to  injure  a  hair  of  his 
handsome  young  head,"  continued  the  duke  impressively, 
as  he  gave  them  the  signal  to  depart. 

With  a  loud  cheer,  the  host  rushed  out  of  the  castle  gates, 
and  began  to  surround  and  beat  the  forest,  while  the  duke 
turned  to  the  knight  and  slyly  exclaimed: 

"  Now,  sir  knight,  I'll  bait  the  trap." 

With   a   nod    and    smile   of    approval,    Count   Homberg 


u 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


watched  the  duke  enter  his  daughter's  apartment,  and  when 
he  returned  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  gleefully  rubbing  his 
hands,  he  anxiously  inquired  : 

**Well,  most  noble  duke,  is  it  all  settled?  Did  you 
experience  any  difficulty  in  winning  your  daughter's  consent 
and  connivance  ?" 

''None  whatever,"  answered  the  duke,  laughing  so 
heartily  that  the  armor  hanging  around  the  great  hall  fairly 
rang.  '<The  altar  is  dressed,  the  candles  lighted,  the 
priests  ready,  and,  unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken,  my  men 
are  even  now  bringing  in  the  victim." 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  when  archers 
and  horsemen  burst  into  the  hall,  dragging  Otto,  whose  torn 
garments,  disheveled  locks,  and  exhausted  appearance  fully 
corroborated  their  statement  that  he  had  led  them  a  lively 
chase. 

**Take  him  into  the  church  immediately,"  commanded 
the  duke,  in  his  sternest  tones.  **I  will  not  countenance 
disobedience  ;  drag  him  to  the  altar,  where  he  will  have  to 
take  his  vows." 

'*  Never  !  "  exclaimed  Otto  passionately,  <*  Never  !  You 
may  drag  me  into  the  church  and  to  the  altar  steps,  but  not 
one  word  will  ever  pass  my  lips.  I'd  rather  die  than  take  a 
single  vow  ! " 

**  We  will  see,  fair  sir;  we  will  see,"  said  the  duke,  who 
paid  no  further  heed  to  his  vehement  protests,  and  led  the 
way  to  the  church,  bidding  his  men  follow  with  the  prisoner 
still  vainly  struggling  to  escape. 

But  when  they  had  entered  the  sacred  edifice,  and  Otto 
beheld  a  familiar,  graceful  figure,  all  clad  in  white,  and 
enveloped  from  head  to  foot  in  a  snowy  veil,  kneeling  at  the 
altar,  he  suddenly  ceased  to  offer  any  resistance.  Like  a 
man  in  a  dream,  he  was  led  up  the  aisle,  and,  obeying  the 
duke's  imperative  sign,  knelt  beside  the  vision.  Instead 
of  the  dreaded  consecration  service,  the  priests  now  began 
the  marriage    ceremony.     Otto    suddenly   forgot  his  rash 


lVttich, 


n 


declaration,  and  with  a  firm  and  eager  voice  gladly  took  the 
vows  which  were  to  bind  him  forever,  not  to  the  church,  but 
to  a  beloved  and  blushing  bride. 

The  service  concluded,  the  Duke  of  Cleves  and  Count 
Romberg  stepped  forward  to  offer  their  congratulations, 
explaining  to  Otto  the  change  which  had  taken  place  in  his 
fortunes. 

''And  now.  Landgrave  of  Hesse,  my  noble  son-in-law, 
unless  you  sorely  repent  taking  your  vows  at  the  altar  a  few 
moments  ago,  in  spite  of  your  loudly  declared  determination 
to  die  rather  than  do  so,  it  behooves  you  publicly  to  confess 
that  I  am  a  better  archer  than  you,  for  /have  hit  the  mark  !  " 
exclaimed  the  duke  merrily. 

"You  may  be  the  better  marksman,  sir  duke  ! "  exclaimed 
Otto,  as  he  rapturously  clasped  his  bride  to  his  heart,  "but 
you  cannot  deny  that  /  have  secured  the  prize  ! " 


lOttich 

Saint  peter  an&  Saint  (Beorge. 

Saint  Peter,  weary  of  opening  and  shutting  the  Gates 
of  Heaven,  and  longing  to  visit  the  fair  spot  on  earth  which 
bears  the  name  of  Luttich,  once  summoned  Saint  George 
and  entreated  him  to  take  his  place  for  a  Httle  while. 

Good  Saint  George,  ever  ready  to  oblige,  cheerfully 
acquiesced,  studied  the  fastenings,  and  opened  and  shut  the 
gates  until  he  felt  sure  he  thoroughly  understood  their 
mechanism.  Then  he  solemnly  promised  his  colleague  to 
refuse  admittance  to  none  who  knocked,  and  patiently 
answer  their  every  question. 

Saint  Peter  was  about  to  depart  when  Saint  George  sud- 
denly  detained  him  by  exclaiming: 

"Hold,  Peter!  I  don't  know  one  word  of  French  !  Sup- 
pose a  Frenchman  should  knock  at  the  gate  [  " 


26 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


**No  danger!"  replied  Saint  Peter  reassuringly.  "No 
danger,  my  good  fellow.  Many  a  century  has  come  and 
gone  since  I  first  took  charge  of  the  Heavenly  Gates,  but 
although  persons  of  almost  every  nation  have  presented 
themselves,  no  Frenchman  has  ever  yet  appeared  to  seek 
admittance.'* 

Then  Saint  Peter  departed,  and  for  a  while  Saint  George 
undertook  the  office  of  porter:  but  although  he  was  called 
upon  to  answer  countless  questions,  and  admit  many  souls, 
the  Germans  aver  he  had  no  occasion  to  do  violence  to  his 
tongue,  for  no  Frenchman  knocked  at  the  Gates  of  Heaven. 


XANTEN. 
Store  ot  Sfe0tde&. 

At  Xanten,  in  the  Netherlands,  where  the  Rhine  lazily 
rolls  its  sluggish  waters,  there  once  dwelt  a  mighty  king  by 
the  name  of  Sigmund,  with  his  virtuous  wife  Sigelind  and 
his  promising  young  son  Siegfried. 

The  prince's  education,  carefully  carried  on  under  his 
parents'  supervision,  was  almost  finished,  when  Sigmund 
suddenly  decided  to  place  him  in  apprenticeship  with  Mimer, 
a  renowned  smith,  that  he  might  learn  all  the  intricacies  of 
the  manufacture  of  arms  of  every  kind. 

Like  a  dutiful  son,  Siegfried  bent  all  his  energies  to  the 
mastery  of  the  new  trade,  and  with  such  success  that  he 
could  soon  rival  his  teacher  in  skill.  Pleased  with  his 
pupil's  diligence  and  aptitude,  Mimer  frequently  sought  his 
society,  entertained  him  with  tales  of  olden  times,  and  at 
last  confided  to  him  that  Amilias,  a  gigantic  Burgundian 
knight,  encased  in  a  ponderous  armor  which  no  sword  had 
yet  dinted,  had  sent  a  herald  to  challenge  the  smiths  of  the 
Netherlands  to  forge  a  weapon  which  could  pierce  his  coat 
oi  mail. 


XANTEN, 


27 


Mimer  confessed  that  he  longed  to  try  his  skill,  but 
mournfully  added  that  his  aged  arm  no  longer  possessed 
strength  enough  to  wield  the  heavy  hammer.  Siegfried, 
who  had  listened  attentively  to  the  whole  story,  sprang  to 
his  feet  as  soon  as  Mimer  had  finished  and  impetuously 
cried: 

**  Be  comforted,  oh,  master,  for  I  will  forge  a  sword  which 
shall  riot  only  dint,  but  cleave  the  famed  Burgundian 
armor." 

At  dawn  the  next  day,  therefore,  Siegfried  began  his  self- 
appointed  task,  and  during  seven  days  and  nights  the  anvil 
constantly  rang  under  the  heavy  blows  of  his  hammer.  At 
the  end  of  this  time  he  modestly  presented  himself  before 
his  master,  bearing  in  his  right  hand  a  glittering  sword  of 
the  finest  steel 

Mimer  examined  it  critically,  and  then,  to  test  its  edge, 
held  it  in  a  running  stream,  where  he  cast  a  fine  thread 
which  the  water  carried  toward  the  blade.  The  thread  no 
sooner  touched  the  sword  than  it  was  severed.  Delighted 
with  the  satisfactory  result  of  his  experiment,  Mimer  pro- 
nounced the  weapon  faultless,  but  Siegfried,  dissatisfied 
with  his  labor,  broke  it  into  several  pieces  and  declared  he 
knew  he  could  do  better  still. 

Seven  more  days  and  nights  were  spent  by  the  indefatig- 
able young  smith  at  his  forge,  and  when  he  again  appeared 
before  his  master  he  proudly  brandished  a  highly  polished 
sword  which  flashed  in  the  sunlight  like  a  streak  of  lightning. 

Once  more,  Mimer  examined  and  tested  it:  this  time  by 
casting  twelve  whole  fleeces  in  the  running  stream,  but 
when  he  saw  them  all  neatly  divided  by  the  sharp  blade  he 
uttered  a  loud  shout  of  triumph,  and  declared  Siegfried's 
Balmung— such  was  the  name  the  prince  had  given  his 
sword — the  finest  weapon  ever  forged. 

Therefore,  when  Amilias,  the  Burgundian,  appeared  in  the 
Netherlands,  Mimer  fearlessly  accepted  his  challenge,  and 
approaching  the   mocking  giant,  dealt  him  a  great   blow. 


28 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


Amilias  did  not  even  wince,  but  the  smile  on  his  broad 
countenance  grew  rather  faint  as  Mimer  twittingly  inquired: 
**  Well,  how  dost  thou  feel  now,  sir  knight  ?'* 

'*  As  if  something  cold  had  touched  me,"  replied  Amilias 
faintly. 

"  Shake  thyself!  "  commanded  Mimer. 
The  giant  obeyed,  and  at  his  first  motion  his  huge  body 
fell  asunder.  The  first  blow  from  Balmunghad  cut  through 
armor  and  knight.  The  head  and  shoulders  now  rolled 
heavily  down  the  mountain  side  and  fell  into  the  Rhine, 
where  they  can  still  be  seen  when  the  waters  are  clear.  As 
for  the  trunk,  it  remained  on  the  mountain  top,  where  it 
looks  like  a  huge  gray  rock,  for  it  is  now  petrified,  and  is 
frequently  pointed  out  to  admiring  tourists. 

The  other  apprentices,  jealous  of  the  praises  Mimer 
lavishly  bestowed  upon  Siegfried,  now  tried  to  devise  some 
means  of  injuring  him.  One  day,  when  the  master  of  the 
forge  was  absent,  and  when  the  provision  of  charcoal 
necessary  to  maintain  the  great  fire  in  the  forge  was  almost 
exhausted,  Veliant,  the  oldest  apprentice,  hoping  to 
humiliate  Siegfried  by  imposing  upon  him  such  a  menial 
task,  bade  him  take  the  mule,  go  to  the  mountain,  and 
obtain  a  new  supply  of  fuel  from  Regin  the  charcoal  burner. 
But  Siegfried,  glad  of  the  change,  set  out  merrily,  and 
after  losing  his  way  sundry  times,  and  slaying  a  whole 
brood  of  young  dragons,  reached  Regin's  hut  just  as  the 
sun  was  going  down. 

That  evening,  as  they  sat  before  the  fire,  Regin  taunted 
the  young  prince  with  serving  his  inferiors  in  birth  and 
station,  until  he  worked  him  up  into  a  passion,  and  wrung 
from  him  an  avowal  that  hejonged  for  freedom  and  a  chance 
to  distinguish  himself  in  the  world. 

Regin  then  revealed  to  Siegfried  that  he  was  none  other 
than  Mimer  in  disguise,  gave  him  back  his  freedom,  made 
him  exchange  his  toilworn  garments  for  others,  better  suited 
to  his  rank,  bound  the  sword  Balmung  to  his  side,  and  bade 


XANTEN. 


«9 


him  seek  a  man,  by  the  name  of  Gripir,  who  would  provide 
him  with  a  good  war  horse. 

Gladly  Siegfried  obeyed  this  command,  and  strode  rapidly 
up  the  mountain  in  search  of  Gripir,  to  whom  he  frankly 
made  known  his  errand.  The  stud-keeper  immediately 
signified  his  readiness  to  serve  him,  and  conducted  him  to 
the  mountain  top,  from  whence  he  pointed  out  a  herd  of 
horses  feeding  in  a  pasture,  bidding  him  take  his  choice 
among  them. 

Guided  by  the  advice  of  an  old,  one-eyed  man— Odin  in 
disguise— whom  he  met  on  the  way,  Siegfried  selected  Grey- 
fell,  a  descendant  of  Odin's  favorite  steed,  the  only  one  of 
the  horses  which  successfully  battled  against  the  high  waves 
in  the  river,  and  came  bounding  up  to  him.  Proudly  riding 
this  matchless  steed,  Siegfried  then  returned  to  Regin  to 
receive  his  further  commands.  That  evening,  seated  by 
the  camp-fire,  and  accompanying  himself  by  the  melodious 
tones  of  a  harp  which  he  touched  with  wondrous  skill, 
Regin  chanted  the  oft-repeated  tale  of  the  Curse  of  Gold,' 
which  is  as  follows: 

Three  of  the  ^sir,  Odin,  Hoenir,  and  Loki,  once  came 
down  upon  earth,  disguised  as  mortals.  As  they  trav- 
eled along,  they  freely  distributed  gifts  to  all  they  met. 
Odin  gave  knowledge  and  strength;  Hoenir,  gladness  and 
good-cheer;  but  Loki,  ever  inclined  to  mischief,  lingered 
behind  them  to  scatter  abroad  the  seeds  of  deceit  and  crime. 
In  his  wanton  love  of  evil,  he  also  slew  a  magnificent  otter, 
which  he  carelessly  flung  over  his  shoulder,  as  he  followed  his 
companions  to  the  hut  of  the  giant  Hreidmar,  where  they 
hoped  to  obtain  refreshment. 

But,  no  sooner  had  the  giant's  glance  rested  upon  Loki's 
strange  burden,  than  he  uttered  a  terrible  cry  of  rage,  for 
the  slain  animal  was  his  oldest  son  Otter,  who  frequently 
assumed  this  form.  His  cry  immediately  brought  his  two 
other  sons,  Regin  and  Fafnir  to  his  side.  With  their 
assistance  he  quickly  bound  the  three  gods,  who,  being  in 


30 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


human   guise,  could   offer  but   slight   resistance,  for   they 
possessed  only  human  strength. 

In  spite  of  their  promises  and  entreaties,  Hreidmar  refused 
to  set  them  free,  and  declared  they  should  remain  in  durance 
vile  until  they  gave  him  gold  enough  to  cover  every  inch  of 
the  slain  Otter's  skin.  The  only  concession  that  the  gods 
could  obtain,  was  that  Loki  should  be  allowed  to  go  in 
search  of  the  ransom,  while  Odin  and  Hoenir  remained  as 
hostages  in  Hreidmar's  hut. 

Loosed  from  his  bonds,  Loki  quickly  wended  his  way  to 
the  source  of  the  Rhine,  where  Andvari,  a  dwarf,  was  said 
to  keep  watch  over  an  immense  treasure.  But  when  he 
reached  the  spot,  he  could  find  no  trace  of  either  treasure 
or  dwarf.  The  only  living  creature  in  sight  was  a  beautiful 
salmon,  playfully  disporting  itself  in  the  limpid  waters. 

Loki,  the  arch-deceiver,  immediately  suspected  a  fraud, 
and  without  further  ado,  sped  down  the  Rhine  to  the  North 
Sea,  where  he  entreated  Ran,  the  cruel  sea  queen,  to  lend 
him  the  net  which  she  so  often  spread  to  catch  the  rich 
galleys  floating  so  proudly  over  the  surface  of  her  husband's 
domain. 

Won  by  his  promises  of  future  assistance.  Ran  soon 
consented  to  lend  him  her  net.  Armed  with  this  infal- 
lible instrument,  Loki  quickly  retraced  his  steps  to  the  source 
of  the  Rhine.  There  he  soon  caught  the  salmon,  which 
proved  to  be,  as  he  had  so  shrewdly  suspected,  the  dwarf 
Andvari  in  disguise. 

Loki  then  demanded  the  jealously  guarded  treasure,  which 
was  surrendered  as  the  price  of  freedom.  He  was  about 
to  depart  when  his  covetous  eye  was  caught  by  the  glitter 
of  a  golden  snake-ring  which  Andvari  wore.  To  wrench 
this  ring  from  the  dwarfs 'finger  and  make  his  escape  was 
the  work  of  a  moment,  yet  his  flight  was  not  so  rapid 
but  that  he  distinctly  heard  every  word  of  the  awful  curse 
which  Andvari  pronounced  upon  the  possessor  of  both 
treasure  and  ring. 


XANTEN, 


3« 


Arrived  at  the  hut  where  Odin  and  Hoenir  anxiously 
awaited  him,  Loki  poured  out  the  gold  on  the  otter  skin, 
which  spread  out  farther  and  farther,  on  all  sides,  until  it 
covered  a  wide  tract  of  ground.  The  treasure,  however, 
was  almost  as  unlimited  as  the  skin,  and  when  the  last  piece 
of  gold  had  been  laid  down  upon  it,  it  was  all  covered  with 
the  exception  of  a  single  hair. 

Hreidmar,  whose  eyes  had  greedily  rested  upon  the  count- 
less treasures,  now  vowed  the  gods  should  not  go  until 
they  had  covered  the  last  hair  with  gold,  and  thus  fulfilled 
his  conditions;  so  Loki,  remembering  the  ring,  produced  it, 
placed  it  upon  the  uncovered  spot,  and  thus  obtained  his 
own  and  his  companions'  liberty.* 

Fearful  lest  anyone  should  deprive  him  of  his  treasure, 
Hreidmar  never  for  a  moment  left  it  out  of  his  sight.  Day 
and  night  he  lingered  beside  it,  drawing  it  into  his  embrace, 
and  gazing  for  hours  at  a  time  upon  the  runes  engraved  on 
his  snake-ring.  So  frequently  did  he  indulge  in  this  latter 
pastnne  that  his  whole  nature  was  soon  changed,  and  one  day, 
when  Fafnir  returned  alone  from  the  chase,  he  found,  instead 
of  Hreidmar,  a  great  snake  coiled  all  around  the  treasure. 

A  moment  sufficed  to  draw  his  sword  and  kill  the  ser- 
pent, and  it  was  only  when  the  deed  was  done  that  he 
discovered  it  was  his  father  whom  he  had  thus  slain.  Sim- 
uitaneously  with  this  knowledge  came  the  insidious  thought 
that  the  treasure  was  his,  and  that  if  he  could  only  remove 
it  to  a  place  of  safety  before  his  brother  Regin  appeared  to 
claim  a  share,  it  need  never  be  divided.  Hastily  gathering 
up  the  golden  hoard,  therefore,  Fafnir  transported  it  to 
Hunaland,  where  he  spread  it  all  out  on  a  plain,  since  called 
the  Glittering  Heath,  where  he  gloated  over  it  night  and 
day,  until  he,  too,  became  a  loathsome  serpent. 

The  tale  ended,  Mimer,  or  Regin  as  we  must  now  call  him, 
revealed    to   Siegfried    that    he  was  Hreidmar's  third  and 
youngest  son,  who  had  been  forced  to  seek  refuge  in  the 
♦See  *•  Stories  of  the  Wagner  Operas,*'  by  the  author. 


32 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


Volsung  country,  and  there  patiently  bide  his  time,  until 
a  dauntless  warrior  consented  to  aid  him  in  recovering  the 
golden  treasure. 

In  vain  Siegfried  reminded  him  of  the  awful  curse  which 
its  possession  entailed.  Regin  insisted  that  he  was  ready  to 
bear  the  curse  if  he  could  only  obtain  the  gold,  and  after 
much  entreaty  finally  induced  Siegfried  to  mount  Greyfell 
and  accompany  him  to  the  Glittering  Heath. 

From  a  mountain  top  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  the 
young  hero  first  beheld  the  golden  plain,  where  lay  the  goal 
of  all  Regin's  hopes.  Alone  and  on  foot,  he  then  descended 
the  mountain  and  sprang  into  a  skiff  which  was  waiting  to 
bear  him  across  the  river.  The  aged  boatman  (Odin  in  dis- 
guise), hearing  his  purpose,  cunningly  advised  him  to  dig  a 
trench  in  the  dragon's  track, — for  the  serpent  had  worn  a 
great  path  on  the  hillside,  in  his  daily  journey  down  to  the 
river  to  quench  his  devouring  thirst,— to  hide  himself  in  this 
trench,  and  plunge  his  sword  deep  into  the  monster's  side 
as  he  passed  over  him. 

Siegfried,  ever  ready  to  receive  good  advice,  put  the  old 
boatman's  suggestion  into  practice,  and  soon  lay  in  a  deep 
trench,  sword  in  hand,  anxiously  awaiting  the  serpent's 
descent  to  the  river.  He  had  not  waited  long,  before  a 
sound  of  rolling  stones  and  a  prolonged  hiss  fell  upon  his 
Hstening  ear.  A  moment  later,  he  felt  the  serpent's  fiery 
breath  touch  his  cheek,  and  then  the  loathsome  folds  of  his 
huge  body  rolled  over  the  trench,  shutting  out  the  air  and 
daylight. 

Undaunted  by  his  proximity  to  the  monster,  Siegfried 
now  boldly  thrust  Balmung  up  to  the  hilt  into  the  body 
above  his  head.  The  blood  gushed  out  of  the  wound  in 
torrents,  rapidly  filling  the 'trench,  and  had  not  the  mon- 
ster, in  his  last  convulsive  struggle,  rolled  over  on  one  side, 
and  thus  allowed  Siegfried  to  escape,  he  would  have  fallen 
victim  to  his  own  hardihood,  and  have  been  drowned  in  the 
slimy  blood.     This  gore,  covering  him  from  head  to  foot, 


XANTEN. 


33 


rendered  him   invulnerable,  with  the  exception    of    a  tiny 
spot,  where  a  fallen  lime  leaf  stuck  fast  to  his  shoulder. 

When  Regin,  from  his  lookout  on  the  mountain  top,  saw 
that  Fafnir  was  dead,  he  hastened  to  cross  the  river  and 
jomed  Siegfried.  No  trace  of  emotion  passed  over  his  face 
when  he  beheld  the  lifeless  form  of  what  had  once  been  a 
well-beloved  brother,  and  his  eyes  were  soon  greedily  turned 
toward  the  heath  where  the  glittering  treasure  lay. 

A  moment  later,  fearing  lest  Siegfried  should  claim  a 
portion  of  this  wealth,  he  stealthily  drew  Balmung  out  of 
Fafnir's  bleeding  side.  But  just  as  he  was  about  to  deal  a 
deadly  blow  to  the  unsuspecting  young  hero,  his  foot  slipped 
in  the  serpent's  slimy  blood,  and  he  fell  upon  the  trenchant 
blade,  which  put  an  end  to  his  envy  and  existence  at  the 
same  time. 

Horror-struck,  Siegfried  gazed  for  a  moment  upon  this 
sad  sight,  then  vaulting  upon  Greyfell,  he  bounded  away 
leaving  the  Glittering  Heath  and  its  accursed  treasure  far 
behind  him.  He  considered  himself  safe  only  when  he  had 
reached  the  distant  seashore,  and  embarked  with  his  steed 
upon  a  vessel  steered  by  the  gentle  Bragi. 

So  sweet  was  the  pilot's  voice,  and  so  entrancing  his 
songs,  that  the  waves  ceased  their  play  to  listen,  and  the 
winds  only  breathed  a  soft  accompaniment  to  his  harp. 
Thus  peacefully  sailing  over  summer  seas,  they  came  at  last 
to  Isenland,  where  Bragi  told  Siegfried  that  Brunhild,  the 
disobedient  Valkyr,  had  been  exiled  to  earth. 

He  then  went  on  to  explain,  in  his  dreamy,  poetical  way, 
that  this  maiden,  the  queen  of  all  Isenland,  had  been  stung 
together  with  all  her  household,  by  -the  irresistible  thorn 
of  sleep,"  and  doomed  by  Odin,  the  All-father,  to  slumber 
on  until  some  hero  should  fight  his  way  through  the  barrier 
of  flames  with  which  he  had  surrounded  the  palace,  and 
break  the  charm  by  kissing  her  fair  young  brow. 

Just  as  the  story  came  to  an  end,  the  keel  of  the  vessel 
grated  upon  the  pebbly  beach,  and  Siegfried,  mounting  his 


IIM 


\M 


\i 


1  ' 


34 


LEGENDS   OF    THE   RHINE. 


XANTEN. 


35 


faithful  Greyfell,  leaped  ashore,  declaring  his  intention  of 
riding  through  the  flames  to  break  the  spell  which  rested 
upon  the  fair  sleeper. 

A  moment  later  his  swift  steed  had  carried  him  away  from 

the  seashore,  into  the   midst  of  the  raging  flames,  through 

which  he  bravely  forced  his  way  to  the  very  gates  of  the 

palace   of  Isenstein,  where  he  found  all,  as  Bragi  had  told 

him,  wrapped  in  a  deep  and  dreamless  sleep.     No  sound  of 

life  broke  the  profound  silence  which  had  brooded  over  the 

place  for  years,  and  Siegfried  penetrated  unmolested  into  an 

apartment  where  the  fair  Brunhild  lay  wrapped  in  slumber. 

No  change    had    passed  over    her    in   all    this  time;    her 

countenance  was  more  beautiful,  if  anything,  than  on  the 

day  when  the  fatal  thorn  had  stung  her,  and  after  a  moment 

spent  in  breathless  contemplation,  Siegfried  bent  above  her 

sleeping  form,  and   pressed  a  gentle  kiss  upon  her  smooth 

brow.     The  blue  eyes  opened  wide,  the  princess  awoke,  and 

knights,   maids,    and   waiting  men,  simultaneously  aroused 

from  their  prolonged  repose,  resumed  the  conversations  and 

occupations  broken  off  so  long  ago. 

The  deliverer  was  welcomed  with  songs  and  festivals,  and 
every  day  some  new  game  or  banquet  was  devised  in  his 
honor.  Six  months  passed  by  like  a  dream,  and  seemed  all 
too  short  to  Brunhild,  who  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  hand- 
some young  warrior  as  soon  as  her  first  conscious  glance 
had  rested  upon  him.  But  there  were  other  great  deeds  for 
Siegfried  to  accomplish,  and  Odin,  impatient  at  his  inactivity, 
finally  sent  his  two  wise  birds.  Thought  and  Memory,  to 
warn  him  that  life  was  short,  time  fleeting,  and  that  it 
behooved  him  to  be  up  and  doing. 

No  sooner  had  this  warning  fallen  upon  Siegfried's  ear, 
than  he  mounted  Greyfell,  and  without  pausing  to  take  leave 
of  Brunhild,  rode  out  of  the  castle  of  Isenstein,  and  away 
to  the  sea.  There  he  embarked  in  a  waiting  vessel  which 
immediately  set  sail,  and  bore  him  off  to  the  Nibelungen- 
land,  the  land  of  perpetual  darkness  and  mist. 


Landing  here,  Siegfried  was  immediately  called  upon  to 
settle  a  quarrel  between  two  young  princes,   Niblung  and 
Shiblung,    whose    father    had    died    leaving    an    immense 
treasure.     This  he  had  found  in  the  course  of  his  journeys, 
on  a  lonely  plain  called  the  Glittering  Heath.     These  two 
princes,  who  had  grown  thin  and  pale  watching  the  treasure, 
which  was  also  guarded  by  Alberich  (Andvari),  king  of  the 
dwarfs,  earnestly  implored   Siegfried    to  divide   the    hoard 
between   them.     The  hero   consented  upon  condition  that 
the   sword,  which   lay  on    top    of   the   gold,  and  which  he 
immediately   recognized   as    his   own   Balmung,  should   be 
given  him   in   exchange  for   his  services. 

The  brothers  made  no  objection,  and  he  began  the  divi- 
sion of  the  treasure,  which  was  carried  on  quite  satisfac- 
torily to  both  parties  until  nothing  but  the  accursed  ring 
remained.  The  princes,  quarreling  for  its  possession, 
fought  until  both  fell  mortally  wounded  upon  their  vast 
piles  of  gold,  and  died  clasping  their  glittering  treasures  in 
a  last  fond  embrace. 

While  Siegfried  was  mournfully  contemplating  this  sad 
sight,  Alberich  the  dwarf,  fearing  lest  the  newcomer  should 
attempt  to  carry  away  the  great  hoard,  donned  his  Tarn- 
kappe,-— a  magic  mantle  which  had  the  power  of  making  the 
wearer  invisible  to  mortal  eyes,— and  stealing  behind  the 
hero,  dealt  him  a  great  and  treacherous  blow. 

Siegfried  soon  recovered,  and  seeing  no  foe,  concluded 
that  the  attack  must  have  been  made  by  the  dwarf. 
Patiently  biding  his  time  until  he  felt  a  sharp  current  of  air 
touch  his  cheek,  he  promptly  stretched  out  his  strong  right 
hand,  caught  his  invisible  little  opponent,  divested  him  of 
the  Tarnkappe,  which  he  appropriated,  and  made  him 
solemnly  swear  to  serve  him  only,  and  to  guard  the  im- 
mense  treasure   faithfully   for   his   use 

Shortly  after  this  encounter  Siegfried  came  into  contact 
with  the  Nibelungen  warriors,  whom  he  defeated,  thanks  to 
his  Tarnkappe  and  invincible  Balmung.     This  victory  gave 


36 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


XANTEIff. 


hiiD  the  sovereignty  over  the  land  of  mist  and  darkness,  where 
he  rested  for  a  while,  ere  he  returned  home,  accompanied 
by   a    kingly   retinue   of  a    thousand    stalwart    Nibelungen 
knights.      The  journey  was   accomplished    in    safety,    and 
when  the  numerous  galleys  reached  Xanten,  on  the  Rhine, 
^;here  were  great  rejoicings,  and  the  long  absent  Siegfried 
and  his  mighty  followers  were  entertained  with  sumptuous 
feasts.     Siegfried  lingered  here  by  his  parents'  side,  recount- 
ing his  adventures  by  land  and  sea,  and  taking  an  active 
part    in   jousts   and    games,    until,    weary   of   this   aimless 
existence,  he  determined  to  go  in  search  of  new  adventures. 
The  main  part  of  the  Nibelungen  warriors  were  sent  back 
to  the  land  of  mist  and  darkness,  to  await  his  summons, 
only  ten  of  their  number  being  privileged  to  accompany  him 
to  the  famed   Burgundian  land.     Over  hill  and  down  dale 
they  traveled,  following,  the  sinuous  course  of  the  Rhine, 
until   they   reached    the   city   of   Worms,    the    Burgundian 
capital,     where   they   were    hospitably   received    by    King 
Gunther,  and  by  every  member  of  the  royal  family. 

One  person  only,  Hagen,  the  confidant  and  adviser  of  the 
king,  viewed  the  strangers  with  displeasure,  and  strove,  by 
every  means  in  his  power,  to  disparage  them  before  his  mas- 
ter.   But,  in  spite  of  all  his  evil  insinuations,Gunther  received 
Siegfried  with   all   the  courtesy  due  his    rank,  and  ordered 
sundry  festivities  and  games   in    his  honor,  in  the   course 
of  which  all  had  cause  to  admire  the  strength  and  agility 
displayed  by  the    Nibelungen    king.     Kriemhild,   sister   of 
Gunther,  than  whom  no  more  beautiful  maiden  ever  dwelt 
upon  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  daily  watched  and  applauded 
his  prowess,  culled  choice  roses  from  her  famous  garden, 
and  twined   them  into  garlands  for  the   handsome   young 
victor,  who  showed  himself  humble  and   gentle  before  her 
alone,  and  whose  burning  love  glances  kindled  an  answer- 
ing flame  in  her  impressionable  heart.     Even  in  her  dreams, 
he   was  ever  before   her,    and   sharing  the   superstition    so 
general  in  her  day,  she  anxiously  sought  a  favorable  inter- 


37 


pretation  for  them  all.    What  was  not  her  chagrin  therefore 
when,  after  an  agitated  night,    her  dream  was  interpreted 
tragically.     She  had  dreamed  that  a  beautiful  falcon,  flying 
toward  her  from  the  north,  nestled  contentedly  in  her  bosom 
whence  it  was  cruelly  torn  away  by  two  dark  eagles   which 
suddenly  swooped  down  upon  it  and  left  it  lying  at  her  feet 
a  bleeding  and  mangled  corpse.     Ute,  the  queen  mother,' 
skilled  in  interpreting  dreams,  declared  she  would  marry  a 
northern  king,  who  would  love  her,  and  rest  happy  in  her 
love,  until  treacherously  slain  by  two  cruel  foes.     The  first 
part  of   the  prophecy  caused  Kriemhild's   heart  to  flutter 
with  joy;  for  was  not  Siegfried  a  king  from  the  north,  and 
did  she  not  love  him  and  long  for  his  love  in  return  >     But 
her  tender  spirit  quailed  when  she  heard  the  tragic  end   so 
she  strove,   by  all  the  means  in  her  power,   to  banish  \he 
recollection  of  this  ominous  dream. 

She  was  greatly  assisted  in  this  process  by  several  excit- 
ing events,  for,  according  to  some  versions  of  the  story  a 
terrible  dragon  suddenly  appeared  and  bore  her  off  to  a  cave 
in  the  Drachenfels,  whence  she  was  heroically  rescued  by 
Siegfried.  Other  traditions  aver  that  two  kings  declared  war 
against  Burgundy,  and  were  defeated,  thanks  to  the  courage 
of  Siegfried,  who  returned  to  Worms  in  triumph. 

Shortly  after  these  events  the  Burgundian  court  was 
further  excited  by  the  arrival  of  a  herald  sent  by  Brunhild, 
queen  of  Isenland,  to  promise  her  hand  and  kingdom  to  any 
knight  who  could  outdo  her  in  casting  a  spear,  hurling  a 
stone,  and  in  leaping. 

In  answer  to  the  manifold  questions  asked  him,  the  herald 
warmly  lauded  the  charms  of  his  fair  queen,  related  how  she 
had  been  stung  by  -the  thorn  of  sleep,"  surrounded  by  a 
barricade  of  raging  flames,  and  finally  released  by  the  kiss 
of  a  beautiful  stranger,  who  had  braved  every  danger  to 
approach  her,  had  lingered  contentedly  by  her  side,  but  had 
at  last  suddenly  and  mysteriously  disappeared. 

This  story  greatly  interested  Gunther,  the  Burgundian 


38 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


king  who  bade  the  herald  return  with  all  speed  to  Isenland, 
to  inform  Brunhild  that  he  accepted  her  challenge,  and 
would  soon  present  himself,  ready  to  win  her  hand  or  die. 

After  vainly  trying  to  deter  him  from  this  rash  enterprise,  by 
revealing  to  him  that  Brunhild,  being  a  Valkyr,  was  endowed 
with  more  than  human  strength,  Siegfried  determined  to 
accompany  him  to  Isenland,  in  the  guise  of  a  vassal,  and  lend 
him  all  the  assistance  in  his  power  for  Kriemhild's  sake.* 

Brunhild,  who  had  dispatched  her  herald  in  hopes  that 
her  challenge  would  reach  the  ear  of  Siegfried  and  bring 
him  back  to  her  feet,  scornfully  viewed  the  Burgundian 
king,  and  haughtily  bade  him  prepare  for  the  appointed 
contest.  Siegfried,  who  had  remained  by  the  vessel, 
hastily  donned  his  Tarnkappe,  which  he  had  brought  with 
that  purpose  in  view,  and  stealing  unseen  to  Gunther's  side, 
bade  him  go  through  th&  motions  and  fear  naught,  for  he 
would  aid  and  sustain  him. 

Brunhild's  first  blow  overthrew  Gunther  and  his  invisible 
supporter,  but  before  she  had  time  to  cry  out  *' Victory," 
Siegfried  placed  Gunther  upon  his  feet  once  more,  and 
hurled  the  spear  at  her,  butt-end  foremost,  with  such  force, 
that  Brunhild  staggered  and  fell,  and  was  obliged  to  con- 
fess herself  beaten. 

But,  although  her  first  attempt  had  proved  unsuccessful, 
and  the  king  she  scorned  had  shown  himself  no  despicable 
foe,  Brunhild  still  hoped  to  defeat  him.  Catching  up  a 
huge  stone,  therefore,  she  threw  it  with  incredible  force, 
and  bounding  after  it,  alighted  beside  it  as  it  fell. 

A  murmur  of  admiration  arose,  and  all  the  spectators 
eagerly  watched  to  see  whether  Gunther  could  rival  her  in 
strength  and  agility  a  second  time.  Invisible  to  all,  Sieg- 
fried bent,  caught  up  the  stone,  threw  it  much  further  than 
Brunhild  had  done,  and  grasping  Gunther  by  his  broad  belt, 
landed  him  beside  the  stone  with  one  mighty  bound.  The 
Burgundian  king  had  won,  and,  in  the  midst  of  deafening 

*See  "  Myths  of  Northern  Lands,"  by  the  author. 


SIEGFRIED   AND    KRIEMHILD. 
Royal  Palace,  Munich. 


XANTEN 


39 


acclamations,    the  proud    Brunhild  was    forced    to    confess 
herself  outdone. 

Furious  at  being  thus  caught  in  her  own  trap,  and  deter- 
mined to  exterminate  the  strangers  rather  than  become  the 
wife  of  their  king,  Brunhild  secretly  began  to  assemble  her 
troops,  beguiling  her  guests  into  a  false  sense  of  security 
by  the  sumptuous  festivals  which  she  gave  in  their  honor. 

Siegfried,  however,  perceiving  these  criminal  intentions, 
stole  secretly  away  to  the  Nibelungen  land,  whence  he  soon 
returned  with  an  imposing  force  of  knights,  in  time  to  save 
Gunther,  and  to  compel  Brunhild  to  keep  her  promise. 

The  bridal  party  now  proceeded  to  Worms,  whither  Sieg- 
fried preceded  them  to  announce  their  coming.  The  timid 
but  warm  welcome  he  received  from  Kriemhild  encouraged 
him  to  sue  openly  for  her  hand.  When  Gunther  arrived 
their  marriage  was  celebrated  and  Brunhild  learned  for  the 
first  time  that  Siegfried  was  not,  as  her  husband  had  told 
her,  one  of  his  vassals,  but  a  mighty  king,  and  the  hero 
who  had  slain  a  dragon  and  become  invulnerable  by  bath- 
ing in  its  blood. 

When  all  the  wedding  festivities  were  ended,  Siegfried 
bore  his  happy  bride  away  to  the  Nibelungen  land,  where 
he  gave  her  all  the  Nibelungen  hoard,  reserving  for  himself 
nothing  but  the  fatal  ring.  The  course  of  their  peaceful 
and  happy  life  was  interrupted,  after  several  years,  by  a 
pressing  invitation  to  visit  their  Burgundian  kindred,  an 
invitation  far  too  cordial  to  be  refused. 

So  the  Nibelungen  king  and  queen  set  out  with  a  royal 
retinue,  and,  after  a  delightful  journey  over  the  smooth  sea 
and  along  the  Rhine,  they  reached  the  city  of  Worms  in  the 
midst  of  great  rejoicings.  The  harmony  which  reigned  at 
first  among  the  various  members  of  the  royal  family  was 
soon  disturbed,  however,  by  the  treacherous  Hagen,  who, 
having  once  overheard  by  what  stratagem  Brunhild  had 
been  won,  now  revealed  the  secret  to  her,  thus  cunningly 
enlisting  her  aid  to  compass  Siegfried's  death. 


40 


LEGENDS   OF    THE    RHINE. 


Next,  he  artfully  insinuated  himself  into  Kriemhild's 
good  graces,  and  under  pretext  of  better  guarding  her  hus- 
band's precious  life,  won  from  her  the  admission  that 
although  Fafnir's  blood  had  rendered  her  husband  invulner- 
able, there  was  one  little  spot  on  his  shoulder — where  the 
lime  leaf  had  stuck — where  a  blow  might  prove  fatal.  At  his 
urgent  request,  Kriemhild  embroidered  a  tiny  leaf  on  Sieg- 
fried's garment,  on  the  exact  spot  where  the  real  leaf  had 
rested,  while  he  vehemently  swore  he  would  keep  her  secret 
and  constantly  watch  over  her  husband's  safety. 

But  one  day,  when  the  royal  party  were  hunting  in  the 
Odenwald,  and  when  Siegfried  was  bending  over  a  little 
fountain  to  slake  his  burning  thirst,  the  treacherous  Hagen 
stole  behind  him,  thrust  his  spear  through  the  embroidered 
leaf  into  the  stooping  form,  and  thus  basely  slew  him. 

Siegfried's  lifeless  body  was  carried  home  on  a  shield  and 
laid  before  Kriemhild's  door,  and  when  she  found  it  there 
she  almost  died  of  grief.  To  discover  the  murderer, — for  she 
suspected  foul  play, — she  bade  each  warrior  lay  his  hand  upon 
the  beloved  remains,  and  when  at  Hagen's  touch  the  blood 
again  began  to  flow,  she  vehemently  denounced  him  as  a 
traitor  and  assassin. 

According  to  some  versions  of  this  tale  Siegfried's  body 
was  burned,  and  Brunhild,  regretting  what  she  had  done, 
stabbed  herself  and  was  buried  with  him.  According  to 
others  he  was  laid  at  rest  in  a  sumptuous  tomb,  and  Kriem- 
hild, who  would  fain  have  returned  to  the  Nibelungen- 
land,  was  persuaded  to  remain  with  her  kin  in  her  native 
country.  A  few  years  later,  guided  by  her  family's  wishes, 
she  sent  for  the  mighty  Nibelungen  hoard,  which  was 
conveyed  to  Burgundy  in  several  large  vessels,  and  placed 
in  a  great  tower  of  which  Kriemhild  only  held  the  key. 
But  Hagen,  the  vile  murderer,  who  was  as  avaricious  as 
treacherous,  soon  stole  the  treasure,  and  fearing  lest  he 
should  be  forced  to  restore  it,  buried  it  deep  in  the  Rhine, 
near  Lochheim,  where  it  remains  to  this  day. 


SIEGFRIED'S    BODY    HORXE    BY    THE 
HUNTSMEN. 


Pixi, 


ELBERFELD. 


41 


Some  years  later,  under  the  influence  of  a  magic  draught, 
or  urged  by  the  thirst  for  revenge,  Kriemhild  married  Attila, 
king  of  the  Huns,  and,  under  pretext  of  a  friendly  visit, 
beguiled  the  Burgundians  into  her  realm.  In  trying  to 
execute  her  orders  and  slay  Hagen,  the  Huns  fell  foul  of 
the  Burgundian  heroes,  who  died  only  after  they  had  slain 
many  of  their  foes,  Gunther  and  Hagen  perishing  by  the 
feand  of  Kriemhild,  who  however  died  by  the  sword  as  soon 
as  Siegfried  was  avenged. 

The  Drachenfels,  where  Siegfried  slew  the  dragon;  the 
city  of  Worms,  which  owes  its  name  to  the  corpse  of  the 
gigantic  worm  Fafnir,  found  on  the  Glittering  Heath;  the 
Rose  Garden,  where  Kriemhild,  the  happy  maiden,  wove 
garlands  for  her  lover;  the  Odenwald,  where  Siegfried  fell; 
the  church  of  St.  Cecilia,  where  his  tomb  can  still  be  seen; 
and  Lochheim,  where  the  Nibelungen  hoard  is  buried  in  the 
Rhine,  are  the  principal  places  along  this  mighty  river 
which  are  connected  with  the  great  German  epic,  the 
Nibelungenlied,  the  story  of  the  noble  Siegfried,  born  in 
the  Netherlands,  at  Xanten,  on  the  Rhine.* 


ELBERFELD. 


^bc  Bngel  page* 

A  LAD  of  faultless  proportions  and  peerless  beauty  once 
sought  a  brave  and  noble  knight,  humbly  entreating  per- 
mission to  serve  him  as  page.  Charmed  by  his  graceful 
manners  and  frank  request,  the  knight  engaged  him,  and 
never,  for  a  moment,  did  he  have  cause  to  regret  having 
secured  his  services. 

The  cheerful  alacrity  with  which  the  little  page  performed 
every  duty,  the  intense  devotion  which  enabled  him  to 
discover  and  anticipate  almost  every  wish,  soon  won  his 
master's  approval,  and  before  long  they  became  inseparable 

*  See  Note  5  in  Appendix, 


42 


LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE. 


companions.  The  years  passed  swiftly  by;  never  before 
had  the  knight  enjoyed  such  continuous  prosperity,  and 
never  had  success  so  persistently  attended  him,  as  since 
the  day  and  hour  when  the  youthful  page  had  first  entered 
his  gate. 

One  day  when  master  and  follower  were  riding  along  the 
banks  of  the  Rhine,  they  suddenly  noticed  the  approach  of 
a  band  of  dastardly  men,  who  had  often,  but  vainly,  sought  to 
harm  the  virtuous  knight.  Their  troop  was  so  numerous 
and  so  cleverly  disposed,  that  a  single  glance  sufficed 
to  show  the  knight  the  utter  impossibility  of  hewing 
his  way  through  their  serried  ranks,  or  of  making  his 
escape. 

**  Would  to  God  you  were  safe  within  my  castle  walls,  my 
faithful  little  page  !  "  he  sadly  cried.  ''  We  are  lost,  my  lad, 
but  it  behooves  us  to  sell  ou;-  lives  as  dearly  as  possible,  and 
to  die  like  heroes,  instead  of  cravens.  Get  behind  me,  oh, 
page,  and  should  a  chance  present  itself,  remember  I  bid 
you  flee  !  " 

*'  Master,  master,  follow  me!  I  will  show  you  a  way  to 
escape,  follow  me  !  '*  cried  the  little  page,  galloping  along 
the  river  bank,  and  suddenly  spurring  his  reluctant  steed 
into  the  rushing  tide. 

'*  Rash  youth,  return  ! "  called  the  knight,  bounding  for- 
ward in  the  vain  hope  of  overtaking  the  venturesome  page. 
*' Better  die,  fighting  bravely,  than  to  perish  miserably  in 
the  waves.     Return,  my  page,  return  !  " 

**Fear  nothing,  master,  follow  me!  "  still  cried  the  little 
page,  and  his  silvery  tones  rose  so  confidently  above  the 
noise  of  the  wind  and  waves,  that  the  knight  unconsciously 
obeyed.  A  few  moments  later  the  horses  had  found  a 
firm  footing,  and  guided  by  his' page,  the  knight  safely  forded 
the  Rhine,  and  reached  the  opposite  shore,  as  the  baffled 
foe  came  down  to  the  water's  brink. 

In  vain  the  pursuers  urged  their  steeds  into  the  deep 
waters;  no    trace    of   ford    could    be    found,  so   they   were 


ELBERFELD. 


43 


forced  to  abandon  the  pursuit.  The  knight's  warm  ex- 
pressions of  gratitude  and  admiration  only  deepened  the 
affection  of  the  little  page,  who  seemed  perfectly  happy 
when  in  his  presence,  or  when  engaged  in  some  of  his 
numerous  errands  of  mercy. 

Not  long  after  this  miraculous  escape  from  death,  the 
knight's  heart  was  torn  with  anguish,  for  his  wife,  his  be- 
loved young  wife,  lay  dangerously  ill.  The  learned  physi- 
cians, summoned  in  haste  to  her  bedside,  gravely  shook 
their  heads,  and  declared  she  must  die,  for  the  only  remedy 
which  could  give  her  relief— the  milk  of  a  lioness— could 
not  be  procured  in  that  country. 

The  rumor  of  the  strange  and  unobtainable  prescription 
rapidly  spread  throughout  the  castle,  and  came  to  the  ears 
of  the  faithful  little  page,  who  immediately  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  rushed  out  of  the  hall.  An  hour  later— before  any 
decided  change  for  the  worse  had  taken  place— he  suddenly 
appeared  at  the  lady's  bedside,  flushed  and  panting,  but 
bearing  a  full  cup  of  lioness*  milk,  which  the  learned  doctors 
administered  to  the  patient  without  delay.  In  a  very  few 
moments  the  color  stole  back  into  the  lady's  pallid  cheeks, 
the  light  to  her  eyes,  and  she  soon  sank  into  a  sweet  sleep, 
from  which  she  awoke  fully  cured,  and  restored  to  life, 
health,  and  love. 

Then  the  knight  eagerly  sought  his  little  page,  and  grate- 
fully poured  out  the  thanks  with  which  his  heart  overflowed. 
*'But  tell  me,  my  noble,  faithful  page,  how  could  you  so 
speedily  procure  a  remedy  which  all  my  wealth  and  the 
doctors'  influence  could  not  command  } "  he  inquired,  after 
the  first  expression  of  his  undying  gratitude. 

"Noble  master,  I  knew  that  a  lioness  was  suckling  her 
cubs  in  an  Arabian  den,  and  so '* 

*S\rabia!"  exclaimed  the  knight,  interrupting  him, 
''Arabia!  Did  you  find  your  way  thither,  and  effect 
your   return   within    one    short   hour's   time  ?" 

*'Even   so,  oh,  gracious   master,'*'  modestly  replied   the 


44 


LEGENDS   OF   THE  RHINE, 


little    page,    with    his    beautiful,   candid    eyes   fixed    on    his 
master's  pale,  astonished  face. 

**  Lad,  who  are  you,  then?"  suddenly  demanded  the 
knight,  a  nameless  terror  invading  his  heart.  **Who  are 
you  ?     Speak;  and  conceal  nothing!" 

**  Master,  beloved  master  !  ask  not  who  I  am,  nor  whence 
I  came,"  cried  the  little  page,  sinking  down  at  his  feet, 
and  stretching  out  imploring  hands.  *^  Question  me  not! 
Let  me  remain  at  your  side,  oh,  master!  and  remember 
that  no  harm  has  befallen  you  since  I  have  been  in  your 
service." 

''Lad,  cease  this  pleading  and  answer  me.  Who  are 
you  .'-  ''  insisted  the  knight,  carefully  avoiding  his  passionate 
glance  of  entreaty. 

**  A  spirit,  oh,  master!  A  spirit  of  light,  who  for  you,  and 
your  service,  left  a  home  in  the  realms  above.  But  now, 
oh,  master  !  I  must  go.     Farewell,  farewell  !  "  * 

**  Lad,  lad,  leave  me  not !  Remain  !  "  now  cried  the  knight 
in  his  turn.  **  Ask  what  reward  you  please,  but  do  not  for- 
sake me.  Remain,  my  faithful  little  page,  for  I  cannot  live 
without  you  !  " 

**  You  have  questioned  my  origin  and  have  mentioned  a 
reward.  The  charm  is  broken,  oh,  master !  and  now  I  must 
go.  In  exchange  for  the  services  I  have  performed  so 
cheerfully  and  so  lovingly,  I  ask  you  to  place  a  silver  bell 
in  the  dense  forest,  that  its  tinkling  sound  may  guide  the 
weary  wanderers,  and  enable  them  to  find  their  way  home. 
Dedicate  the  bell  to  the  Almighty  and  to  his  angelic  host, 
oh,  master!  and  receive  my  last  farewell." 

The  lad  vanished,  but  none  saw  him  leave  the  hall  or  pass 
through  the  castle  gates,  and  no  trace  of  him  was  ever  found. 
The  angel  page  had  faded  from  mortal  sight,  and  returned 
to  the  heavenly  home,  inhabited  by  countless  spirits  as 
good,  faithful,  and  pure  as  he. 

His  last  request  was  piously  fulfilled  by  the  noble  knight, 
who  seemed  absorbed  in  mournful  recollections  of  the  oast, 

*  See  Note  6  in  Appendix, 


dOsseldorf.  45 

for  his  eye  constantly  roamed  in  search  of  the  beautiful  pa^e 

who  had  left  him,  and  when,  at  evensong,  the  silvery  tones 

of  the  little  bell  pealed  forth  in  the  quiet  air,  they  fell  upon 

his  ear  like  angels  words  and  filled  his  heart  with  restless 
longing. 

Little  by  little  the  knight's  strength  failed.  His  step 
grew  slow  and  feeble,  and  one  day,  when  the  shades  of 
night  were  falling  and  the  first  tinkle  of  the  little  bell  fell 
upon  his  ear,  he  softly  murmured  :  -  My  page,  my  faithful 
little  page  !  "  and  his  soul  was  released  and  allowed  to  join 
the  angel  spirit  he  had  learned  to  love  so  well.  After  that 
and  for  many  a  year,  the  bell  continued  to  peal  forth  its 
silvery  chimes,  some  echoes  of  which  are  still  said  to  linger 
in  the  Elberfeld  forest,  and  many  a  weary  wanderer  has  had 
cause  to  bless  the  virtuous  knight  and  his  angel  page 


dOsseldorf. 

Zhz  Critics  Silenced 

A  GREAT  crowd  once  assembled  on  the  market  place  at 
DUsseldorf,  to  view  the  unveiling  of  the  equestrian  statue 
of  the  beloved  Elector,  John  William. 

Gabriel  Grupello,  the  artist,  stood  at  his  post,  and  at  the 
prince  s  signal  dropped  the  veil.  The  statue,  a  master- 
piece,  excited  much  admiration,  and  the  artist's  heart  swelled 
with  pride  when  the  Elector,  in  token  of  approval,  publicly 
seized  and  shook  his  hand. 

But  the  courtiers,  jealous  of  this  unwonted  mark  of  dis- 
tinction,  eagerly  sought  something  to  depreciate,  and  as 
they  dared  not  criticise  the  ^^gy^  which  the  Elector  had 
pronounced  perfect,  they  took  their  revenge  by  disparaging 
the  steed.  One  found  fault  with  the  hoofs,  another  with 
the  withers,  a  third  with  the  neck,  a  fourth  with  the  ears; 


46 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


in  short  no  part  of  the  unfortunate  quadruped  could  meet 
with  the  courtiers'  entire  approvah 

Silently  Grupello  listened  to  all  their  comments,  and 
when  they  had  quite  finished  he  turned  to  the  Elector, 
gravely  entreating  permission  to  erect  a  scaffolding  around 
the  statue  once  more,  and  to  be  allowed  three  days'  work, 
screened  from  all  inquisitive  eyes  and  secured  from  every 
interruption.  The  Elector  graciously  complied  with  this 
request,  and  during  three  days  the  heavy  clang  of  the  ham- 
mer resounded  incessantly  on  the  market  place. 

The  courtiers,  passing  to  and  fro,  heard  the  sound  and 
complacently  congratulated  themselves  upon  the  valuable 
hints  they  had  bestowed  upon  the  artist.  The  last  day 
came,  the  hammering  ceased,  the  scaffolding  fell,  and  once 
more,  the  Elector  and  his  suite  gathered  around  the  statue. 

**  Well,  my  noble  lords  and  gentlemen,"  cried  the  Elector, 
turning  to  his  followers,  **are  you  satisfied  now?" 

"  Yes,  the  hoofs  are  quite  right  now  ! "  exclaimed  the 
hoof-critic  approvingly. 

**And  the  arch  of  the  neck  is  no  longer  strained,  but  flex- 
ible and  proud,"  said  another  suavely. 

**See  !  "  cried  a  third,  **  the  ears  now  seem  quite  natural  !  " 

Each  courtier  warmly  praised  the  particular  part  he 
had  once  condemned,  and  all,  thinking  the  success  owing 
entirely  to  themselves  and  to  their  timely  suggestions,  openly 
professed  their  complete  satisfaction. 

With  downcast  eyes  Grupello  listened  to  their  praise,  but, 
when  they  had  quite  finished,  he  raised  his  head  and  boldly 
cried: 

**  Behold,  your  Royal  Highness!  neck,  hoofs,  ears,  and 
withers  are  quite  unchanged,^  for  a  statue  of  bronze,  once 
cast,  cannot  be  altered." 

**You  have  not  changed  it,  Master  Grupello!  "  exclaimed 
the  Elector,  astonished.  **  Pray  tell  me  what  you  were  ham- 
mering so  vigorously,  then  ?" 

**Oh  !"  replied  the  artist,  carelessly  shrugging  his  shoul- 


COLOGNE. 


47 


ders,  **I  was  merely  demolishing  the  reputation  of  the 
critics,  who  were  jealous  of  the  praise  your  Royal  Highness 
so  generously  bestowed." 


COLOGNE. 
OTe  CatbeDral  Xcgen^ 

Engelbert  the  Holy,  bishop  of  Cologne,  longed  to  signal- 
ize  his  rule  and  inim^.rtalize  his  name  by  some  great  work. 
He  determined,  therefore,  to  erect  a  cathedral  which  would 
tower  far  above  ir  d  outshine  all  others,  and  with  this  lauda- 
ble purpose  in  view,  sent  for  a  renowned  architect. 

Elated  by  the  honor  thus  conferred  upon  him,  this  man 
readily  undertook  to  produce  a  suitable  plan  within  a  certain 
space  of  time,  and  withdrew  from  the  bishop's  presence  full 
of  eagerness  to  begin  his  work.  But,  when  he  had  returned 
to  his  own  humble  little  dwelling,  spread  a  huge  sheet  of 
spotless  parchment  upon  the  table  before  him,  and  prepared 
his  rules,  compasses,  and  other  drawing  implements,  the  in- 
spiration he  so  confidently  expected  entirely  failed  him. 

Hour  after  hour  the  architect  pondered,  but  the   great 
sheet  still  remained  a  perfect  blank.     To  stimulate  his  ideas 
he  finally  concluded  to   take  a  little  walk,  and  thoughtfully 
wandered  along  the  crooked,  narrow  streets,  and  out  of  the 
Frankenpforte  to  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.     A  stretch  of  fine, 
smooth  sand  and  the  prevailing  solitude  checked  the  archi- 
tect's uncertain  steps,  and  invited  him  to  linger  for  a  while. 
Idly,  at  first,  he  began  tracing  the  outline  of  a  cathedral  in 
the  sand  ;  then  suddenly  he  grasped   his  cane  more  firmly 
and  drew  more  rapidly,  until,  in  his  excitement,  his  breath 
came  in  quick,  short  gasps.     Dome,  turrets,  and  spire  were 
added  one  by  one,  and  when  all  was  finished,  he  raised  his 
head  and  proudly  exclaimed  : 

*' There  is    the  cathedral  plan!     Surely   none   can  evei 
equal  it." 


48 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


**  No  ;  none  but  the  cathedral  of  Mayence,  of  which  that 
is  a  very  fair  copy,"  said  a  mocking  voice  close  beside  him. 

The  architect,  who  until  then  had  believed  himself  quite 
alone,  now  turned  with  a  start  and  beheld  a  wizened  little 
old  man,  who  bent  over  his  plan  with  a  sarcastic  expression 
on  his  sharp  face.  His  first  impulse  was,  of  course,  to  give 
utterance  to  his  anger,  but  a  second  glance  at  the  completed 
plan  brought  the  instant  conviction  that  the  criticism  was 
true. 

Hastily  the  architect  effaced  the  outline,  smoothed  the 
sand,  and  patiently  began  to  trace  a  second  plan.  Under 
his  practiced  hand,  choir,  nave,  altar,  and  chapel  rapidly 
assumed  beautiful  and  harmonious  proportions.  Like  one 
inspired,  he  added  ornament  and  tracery,  carefully  elabo- 
rating his  design,  and  when  the  last  touch  had  been  given, 
he  stood  off  a  few  paces  and  triumphantly  cried  : 

**  There  !  No  such  an  edifice  as  that  has  ever  yet  pierced 
the  blue  vault  of  heaven." 

**No;  none  except  the  cathedral  of  Strasburg,"  snickered 
the  same  derisive  voice  which  already^  once  before,  had 
dashed  his  hopes  to  the  ground. 

**Strasburg ! "  exclaimed  the  architect.  **Strasburg, 
ay — yes  !  True,  too  true  !  "  and  his  head  sank  down  upon 
his  breast,  and  the  light  of  pleasure  died  out  of  his  eyes. 
But  he  was  a  sanguine  man,  and  a  moment  later  he  had 
recovered  his  wonted  energy  and  begun  a  third  plan,  mut- 
tering that  he  would  surely  have  time  to  complete  it  before 
the  sun  set  and  darkness  overtook  him.  His  hand  fairly 
trembled  with  eagerness,  and  his  eyes  almost  started  from 
their  sockets,  as  he  tried  to  represent  the  visions  of  beauty 
which  now  thronged  his  brain.  The  cane  moved  faster  and 
faster,  the  lines  covered  Ihe  sand  like  network,  the  red 
disk  of  the  sun  sank  beneath  the  distant  horizon,  and  its 
rosy  glow  was  reflected  in  the  sparkling  river  as  the  last  line 
was  rapidly  traced. 

**  There  !"  he  cried.     **  This  is  no  treacherous  effect  of 


a. 

o 

^ 

o 

n 

r 

c 

O 

<->-, 

o 

:z: 

c 

w 

COLOGNE. 


49 


memory,  but  a  creation  of  my  own  brain  which  will  make 
my  name  immortal." 

'*Ha!  ha!  ha!"  chuckled  the  little  old  man,  whose 
presence  the  architect  had  again  entirely  forgotten  in  his 
abstraction.  **You  are  mistaken  again,  sir  architect;  for 
what  you  so  proudly  call  a  creation  of  your  own  brain  looks 
singularly  like  the  cathedral  of  Amiens." 

Beside  himself  with  anger,  and  completely  baffled,  for  he 
could  not  but  acknowledge  the  similarity,  now  that  it  was 
pointed  out  to  him,  the  architect  threw  his  staff  at  the 
stranger's  feet  and  impetuously  cried  : 

**  Perhaps  you,  who  laugh  at  me,  could  draw  a  better 
plan  ! " 

The  clawlike  fingers  immediately  closed  over  the  staff, 
and  in  the  rapidly  gathering  twilight  the  stranger  traced 
the  plan,  cut,  and  elevation  of  a  stupendous  cathedral. 
With  dilated  eyes  the  architect  breathlessly  followed  his 
every  movement;  and  although  the  lines  were  so  quickly 
and  faintly  traced  that  they  were  lost  to  sight  almost  as 
soon  as  made,  he  still  saw  enough  to  be  convinced  that  the 
plan  far  surpassed  anything  that  he  had  yet  seen. 

**Well,  what  do  you  think  of  my  plan?"  suddenly  asked 
the  old  man,  when  he  had  quite  finished. 

''It  is  simply  stupendous!"  exclaimed  the  architect. 
''But  who  are  you,  who  can  thus,  in  a  few  moments,  create 
such  an  exquisite  plan  ?  You  are  surely  the  greatest  archi- 
tect on  the  face  of  the  earth,  or " 

"  His  Satanic  Majesty,  the  greatest  architect  in  the  Lower 
World,  at  your  service,  sir  architect.  Moreover,  if  my 
plan  pleases  you,  it  is  yours.  You  shall  reap  all  the  honors 
and  profits  which  it  cannot  fail  to  bring  you,  if  you  will  only 
consent  to  pledge  me  your  soul  in  exchange." 

"  Avaunt!  Satan,  avaunt  !  "  cried  the  terrified  architect, 
vehemently  crossing  himself  again  and  again.  With  a  snarl- 
ing cry  of  rage  the  fiend  then  vanished,  and  the  architect 
found  himself  alone  once  more,  by  the  rushing  river.     No 


50 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


trace  of  his  companion  remained  except  a  faint  odor  of  brim- 
stone, which  seemed  tu  Ihiger  on  the  quiet  evening  air.  With 
hasty,  trembling  steps,  the  architect  returned  home,  and 
all  night  long  he  tossed  about  on  his  sleepless  couch, 
vainly  striving  to  recollect  the  plan  of  the  cathedral,  which 
hovered  vaguely  and  tantalizingly  before  him.  But,  in 
spite  of   all  his    efforts,  he  could   not  reproduce  even   the 

most  simple  detail 

Day  after  day  passed,  the  appointed  time  was  almost  gone, 
and  still  the  architect  was  no  nearer  his  goal  than  at  first. 
Once  more  he  wandered  out  through  the  Frankenpforte  to 
the  banks  of  the  swift-flowing  Rhine,  and  there,  in  the 
gathering  twilight,  as  he  had  hoped,  in  spite  of  a  momentary 
spasm  of  fear,  the  fiend  once  more  appeared  before  him. 

**The  plan  is  still  at  your  disposal,  sir  architect,"  he 
murmured  in  soft,  insinuating  tones.  **  Subscribe  to  my 
conditions,  and  you  shall  have  it." 

As  in  a  dream,  the  architect  beheld  the  finished  cathedral, 
and  heard  the  cries  of  an  enthusiastic  multitude  praising  his 
name.     Overcome  by  the  temptation,  he  quickly  gasped: 
**  I  consent— the  plan!     Give  it— quick!  " 
*^  Meet  me   here,  at  midnight,  to-morrow,"  answered  the 
Tempter,  ''and  as  soon  as  you  have  signed  your  name  to  a 
certain  little  pledge,  which  I  shall  have  the  honor  of  laying 
before  you,  the  plan  will  be  yours."     The  thought  of  sub- 
mitting such  a  marvelously  beautiful  plan  to  Engelbert  the 
Holy,  and  of   the  glory  which  would   ever  rest  like  a  halo 
upon  his  name,  at  first  occupied  all  the  architect's  ideas;  but 
when  night  closed  in,  and  he  found   himself  all  alone  in  his 
room,  the  recollection  that  his  soul  would  be  lost  forever 
came  upon  him  with  all  its  force. 

With  loud  groans,  and  many  tears,  he  sank  upon  his  knees, 
to  entreat  aid  from  Heaven;  but  when  he  would  have  prayed, 
he  could  find  no  suitable  words  and  could  only  repeat,  over 
and  over  again,  the  short  conversation  which  had  taken 
place    between    him    and    the    fiend.       His    housekeeper, 


COLOGNE. 


51 


awakened   by   his   groans,   grew    pale    with    horror   as   she 
crouched  by  the  key-hole  and  heard  every  word. 

Tremblingly  she  put  on  her  hooded  cloak,  stole  out  of  the 
house  door,  locked  it  behind  her,  and  thrusting  the  key  into 
her  pocket,  hobbled  off  to  church,  where  she  poured  out  the 
whole  story  into  the  astonished  ears  of  her  father-confessor, 
and  wound  up  by  imploring  him  to  save  her  master's  soul. 

The  priest,  who  had   listened  very   attentively,  pondered 
the  matter  for  a  while,  and   then  began   to  explain   to  the 
tearful,  anxious  woman  that  a  plan  sufficiently  beautiful  to 
induce  her  master  to  pledge  his  soul  for  its  possession  must 
be  obtained  almost  at   any  price.      However,  he  admitted 
that  a  human  soul  should  be  rescued,  if  possible;  and  pro- 
ducing a  piece  of  the  true  cross,  set  in  gold  and  precious 
stones,  bade  her  give  it  to  her  master,  with  minute  direc- 
tions  for  its  use.     The  holy  relic  concealed  beneath  the  dark 
folds  of  his   mantle,  the   architect  stole  out  alone,  late  at 
night,  to  keep   his  appointment  with  his  Satanic  Majesty. 
Not  a  star  twinkled  in  the  firmament  above,  and  the  wind 
whistled  and  moaned  as  it  blew  over  the  river,  and  touched 
his   pale  face   with   its  clammy   breath.     Not   a   sound  was 
heard  in  the  city,  save  the  dismal  howls  of  a  few  dogs,  until 
the  bells  slowly  tolled  the  midnight  hour. 

As  the  twelfth  stroke  died  away,  the  Evil  One  suddenly 
appeared  with  a  huge  roll  of  parchment  tucked  under  his 
arm. 

"The  plan!  the  plan!"  gasped  the  architect,  shivering 
with  something  besides  the  cold. 

''It  is  here.  You  shall  have  it,  in  a  moment,"  answered 
Satan.  *'Just  prick  your  finger  with  your  penknife,  use 
your  blood  to  sign  your  name  to  this  pledge,  and  the  plan 
is  yours." 

The  architect  ransacked  his  pockets,  but  could  not  find 
his  knife.  Satan,  who  had  anxiously  watched  his  fruitless 
search,  uttered  an  impatient  ejaculation,  and  hastily 
cried; 


'-> 


s« 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


"  Here,  hold  this  plan  for  a  moment,  while  I  look  for  a 

sharp  stone."  ,       ^     ,  ,  ,  . 

For  a  moment  he  groped  around  in  the  darkness  but 
when  he  had  found  what  he  wanted,  and  raised  his  head, 
he  recoiled  in  horror.  The  architect  stood  before  h.m, 
clasping  the  plan  close  to  his  breast  and  brand-^-g  ^he 
relic  above  his  head  as  he  vehemently  cned:  "Get  thee 
behind  me,  Satan!  Back,  I  say!  In  the  name  of  the  One 
who  died  upon  this  cross,  I  bid  thee  depart."  Cowermg  in 
fear   his  ugly  features  distorted  by  rage,  Satan  exclaimed: 

"Villain'  You  have  outwitted  me,  but  I  shall  yet  have 
my  revenge.  The  plan  is  yours,  it  is  true,  but  the  cathe- 
dral shall  never  be  finished  without  my  aid  and  consent. 
The  story  of  your  fraud  will  be  noised  abroad,  but  your  name, 
instead  of  enduring  forever,  will  soon  be  buried  '"  °b hvion 

With  a  threatening  gesture   Satan   then  vanished,  while 
the  architect  hastened  home  with  the  precious  p  an  which 
he  had   secured  at  such  a  terrible   risk.     Engelbert    the 
Holy  approved  of  it  warmly,  and  the  work  was  begun  with- 
out delay.     Countless  workmen  were  employed,  enormous 
sums  were  expended,  and  the  architect,  fondly  hoping  to 
outwit  the  Evil  One  a  second  time,  had  his  name  engraved 
in  deep  characters  on  one  of  the  large  stones  of  the  tower 
In  his  eagerness  to  see  the  effect,  he  sprang  upon  this  block 
before  it  was  properly  secured,  and  as  he  leaned  over,  it 
tipped  and  fell  to  the   ground,  carrying  him  with  it  and 
crushing  him  to  death  beneath  its  weight. 

Owing  to  this  accident  the  work  was  stopped,  but, 
although  often  renewed,  hundreds  of  years  passed  by  ere  the 
cathedral  of  Cologne  was  entirely  finished.  It  is,  moreover 
commonly  reported  that  it. would  still  be  incomplete  had 
not  Satan  consented  to  its  termination,  and  even  contributed 
funds  for  the  construction,  by  establishing  a  famous  lottery 
in  its  behalf.  But,  although  the  cathedral  begun  in  1225 
was  finished  in  1880,  the  name  of  its  real  architect  is  still 
unknown. 


i 


COLOGNE   CATHEDRAL. 


II 


COLOGNE,  53 


Among  the  numerous  legends  recounted  to  explain  the 
long  unfinished  state  of  the  Cologne  Cathedral,  is  another 
amusing  specimen. 

The  devil  had  not  forgiven  the  wily  architect  who  had 
once  so  cleverly  defeated  his  calculations;  and  was  fully 
resolved  to  make  a  second  attempt  to  secure  his  soul.  Dis- 
guised, therefore,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  he  went  to  call 
upon  the  architect,  who,  recognizing  him,  could  not  restrain 
a  certain  feeling  of  elation  at  the  thought  of  having  escaped 
him;  a  feeling  which  was  greatly  increased  by  the  first  words 
spoken  by  his  Satanic  Majesty. 

**Well,  sir  architect,  your  work  progresses  finely,  in 
spite  of  the  few  condemnatory  expressions  I  made  use  of  on 
the  memorable  occasion  when  you  got  the  better  of  me. 
You  must  really  excuse  the  temper  I  then  showed;  but,  you 
see,  it  was  the  very  first  time  that  I  had  been  outwitted, 
and  until  then,  I  scarcely  realized  that  you  were  more  than 
a  match  for  me." 

**  You  flatter  me,"  stammered  the  architect;  overcome  by 
his  polite  bow,  yet  rather  doubtful  whether  the  speech  was 
intended  as  a  compliment  or  as  an  insult. 

**No,  no!"  replied  the  devil.  **  Not  at  all,  my  dear 
sir,  you  are  fully  as  smart  as  I;  and  if  you  have  no  objec- 
tion, I  would  like  to  make  a  bet  with  you  where  you  could 
not  so  easily  outwit  me  a  second  time." 

Bewildered  by  these  compliments,  and  forgetting  in  his 
conceit  that  he  owed  his  safety  to  divine  intervention  only, 
the  architect  agreed  to  the  bet.  So  the  devil  engaged 
himself  to  bring  water  from  Treves  to  Cologne,  by  a  new 
aqueduct,  before  the  cathedral  was  finished,  the  architect's 
soul  being  the  prize  of  the  winner. 

This  bet  duly  settled,  Satan  vanished,  and  the  architect, 
doubling  his  force  of  workmen,  labored  early  and  late  at 


54  LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE. 

the  cathedral,  and  even  had  a  great  stone,  upon  which  his 
name  had  duly  been  engraved,  hoisted  up  on  the  nearly  fin- 
ished tower.  One  evening,  just  after  this  stone  had  been 
set  into  place,  and  before  it  was  properly  secured,  the  archi- 
tect climbed  up  to  the  top  of  the  tower,  and  glancmg  toward 
the  heights,  saw  a  silvery  stream  of  water  come  rushing 
toward  the  city  with  the  force  and  rapidity  of  a  torrent. 

**The  devil  has  won!  "  he  exclaimed,  springing  upon  the 
great  stone  in  his  dismay.  A  moment's  oscillation,  and 
stone  and  architect  fell  to  the  ground,  where  the  latter  was 

crushed  to  pieces. 

Tradition  further  relates  that  the  devil,  in  the  shape  of  a 
hu-e  black  hound,  darted  forward  to  seize  the  architect's 
soul  ere  he  was  dead,  but  came  just  too  late  to  secure  his 
prey  A  very  ancient  bas-relief  commemorates  this  tradition, 
and  the  traveler  can  there  see  the  hound  vainly  trying  to 
secure  the  architect's  soul,  which,  however,  escapes  forever 
from  his  power. 


(Tbe  Dcvire  Stone. 

The  devil,  who  plays  so  important  a  part  in  all  the 
legends  of  the  cathedral,  was  so  angry  when  he  saw  the 
work  advancing  that  he  flew  to  the  Seven  Mountains,  caught 
a  great  block  of  stone  in  his  nervous  grasp,  and  hurled  it 
with  all  his  might  against  the  nearly  completed  building. 
His  animus  was  such  that  the  ponderous  block  would  surely 
have  struck  and  wrecked  the  building,  had  not  a  benevolent 
Providence  interfered  by  suddenly  sending  so  strong  a  wind 
that  the  stone  deflected  from  its  course  and  fell  harmlessly 

short.  ' 

This  stone,  which  can  still  be  seen,  and  is  known  as  the 
Devil's  Stone,  bears  the  imprint  of  Satan's  hot  hands,  and 
the  people  of  Cologne  aver  that  ever  after  that,  Satan  was 
duly  careful  to  allow  for  the  wind  whenever  he  aimed  for 
a  certain  goal. 


COLOGNE. 


55 


ZTbe  jfire  J3ell. 

In  one  of  the  great  towers  of  the  Cologne  cathedral  hung 
the  great  bell  which  rang  morning,  noon,  and  night  to  call 
the  faithful  to  prayers,  and  solemnly  tolled  the  flight  of  time. 
Constant  use  gradually  dulled  its  sound,  however,  and 
finally  the  city  council  declared  that  Wolf,  the  great  founder, 
should  fashion  a  new  bell,  for  which  they  appropriated 
twenty-five  thousand  pounds  of  pure  metal. 

Wolf  made  the  mold,  melted  the  metal,  and  invited  all 
the  people  to  witness  the  casting  of  the  new  cathedral  bell. 
As  he  directed  the  stream  of  liquid  metal  into  the  mold,  he 
proudly  looked  around  him,  and  hoping  to  make  a  good 
impression  upon  the  unsophisticated  people,  hypocritically 
exclaimed  :   **  God  speed  the  casting  !  " 

As  he  was  an  utter  atheist,  however,  this  prayer  was  not 
granted,  and  when  the  mold  was  broken,  the  bell  was 
found  useless,  as  it  was  cracked  from  top  to  bottom.  A 
second  mold  was  prepared,  a  second  casting  made,  and  as 
the  same  mockery  was  again  gone  through  with,  the  second 
bell  also  proved  an  utter  failure. 

Angry  at  this  double  mischance,  Wolf  prepared  to  make  a 
third  casting,  and  in  his  excitement  he  exclaimed  as  usual  : 
**  Devil  take  the  work  ! "  which  impious  words  made  the 
people  shudder  with  horror. 

In  spite  of  the  founder's  impiety,  however,  the  bell  this 
time  proved  quite  flawless,  was  hung  in  the  tower,  and  Wolf 
was  invited  to  be  present  that  his  hand  might  ring  the  first 
melodious  peal.  Pleased  with  the  honor,  the  founder  gave 
a  mighty  pull  to  the  rope,  but  instead  of  the  harmonious 
sound  he  expected,  the  mighty  bell  gave  forth  such  a  harsh, 
discordant  tone  that  the  people  anxiously  crossed  themselves, 
and  looked  up  at  the  tower  with  a  shudder  of  horror. 

Wolf  himself,  horrified  at  the  sound,  started  back  in  dis- 
may and  fell  from  the  tower,  but  the  great  bell  remfined 
there,  not  to  summon  the  faithful  to  the  house  of  God,  but 


s« 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


COLOGNE, 


57 


to  warn  the  citizens  of  Cologne  that  some  great  danger  was 
threatening  them.  Its  harsh,  discordant  tones  are  never 
heard,  therefore,  except  in  case  of  fire  or  war;  and  when 
they  rend  the  quiet  air,  the  women  and  children  cross  them- 
selves and  pray,  while  the  men  rush  forth  to  give  the 
required  aid. 

**  Since  then  there  hangs  that  fated  bell,  a  warning  to  the  bad  ; 
A  lesson  to  the  wicked  'tis,  its  tale  so  deep  and  sad  ; 
The  offspring  of  the  skill  of  hell,  the  child  of  curses  dire, 
'Tis  now  but  toU'd  in  time  of  storm,  of  dread,  or  doole,  or  fire." 

— /.  G.  Seidl, 


Sbe  XcdcnD  of  tbe  Ctoaa. 

In  the  cathedral  of  Cologne  are  a  number  of  holy  relics, 
which  are  exhibited  for  the  edification  of  the  faithful  on  all 
solemn  occasions.  Here,  in  a  costly  shrine,  are  the  skulls 
of  the  Magi,  which,  transferred  from  Constantinople  to 
Milan,  found  a  permanent  resting  place  in  Cologne  already 
in  the  twelfth  century. 

The  cathedral  also  boasts  of  the  possession  of  a  fragment 
of  the  true  cross,  of  which  the  following  curious  legend  is 

told: 

Although  driven  out  of  the  garden  of  Eden,  and  pre- 
vented from  ever  returning  to  its  grateful  shade  by  the 
angel  with  the  flaming  sword,  Adam  and  Eve  often  longed 
to  see  its  glories  again.  Feeling  the  dreaded  approach  of 
death,  and  hoping  to  prolong  his  life,  Adam  once  bade 
Seth  hasten  thither,  to  secure  some  balsam  from  the  tree 
of  life,  directing  him  to  follow  the  footprints  burned  into 
the  soil  by  his  flying  feet.  Seth,  ever  obedient,  soon  came 
to  the  gate,  where  the  angel  with  his  flashing  sword  bade 
him  pause  and  state  his  errand. 

Sadly  shaking  his  head,  the  heavenly  messenger  then 
replied  that  four  thousand  years  must  elapse  ere  pardon 
would  become  manifest,  and   that  the  wood  of  the  cross, 


upon  which  the  Lamb  of  Atonement  would  be  slain,  would 
grow  from  the  grave  where  Adam  would  sleep.     As  Seth 
was  about  to  turn  aside  discouraged,  the  angel  bade  hint 
cast  a  glance  mto  Paradise,  and  see  what  Adam  had  forfeited 
Seth  perceived  the  matchless  garden,  and  caught  a  glimpse 

^  n  I  ""^  ^'^^'  ^^^'"  ^^^^  ^^"^  ^^^^  into  the  depths 
of  hell,  where  Cain  was  suffering  the  punishment  of  his 
crime  and  whose  summit,  almost  lost  in  the  skies,  sup- 
ported  the  graceful  form  of  a  woman,  clasping  a  beautiful 
chdd  to  her  breast.  This  babe  cast  upon  him  a  glance  of 
ineffable  compassion. 

The  guardian  angel,  stretching  out  his  hand,  then  plucked 
three  seeds  from  this  lofty  tree,  and  gave  them  to  Seth 
bidding  h.m  return  home,  and  plant  them  upon  his  father's 
grave.  Shortly  after,  Adam  died  and  was  buried,  the  seeds 
were  planted,  and  three  trees,  a  pine,  cedar,  and  cypress 
springing  out  of  the  grave,  twined  round  each  other,  untii 
they  lormed  but  one  immense  trunk 

Moses  used  a  twig  of  this  tree  to  perform  his  miracles, 
David  sat  beneath  it  bewailing  his  sins,  and  Solomon  had  it 
cut  down  to  furnish  one  of  the  lofty  pillars  for  the  Temple 
Owing  to  some  error,  however,  the  pillar  was  first  too  lone 
then  too  short,  and  was  finally  discarded  and  cast  by  Solo- 
mon s  order  into  the  Cedron,  whose  waters  carried  it  away 
to  the  South.     The  Queen  of  Sheba,  on  her  way  to  Jeru- 
salem, saw  the  mighty  log,  secured  it,  and  offered  it  to  the 
king,  who  not  being  able  to  use  it  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts 
had  It  sunk  in  the   pool  of  Bethesda,  whose  waters  then 
received  their  miraculous  power.     The  trunk,  however  rose 
again  to  the  surface  just  before  the  Crucifixion,  and  was 
used  to  fashion  the  cross  upon  which  the  Lord  died 

Buried  upon  Calvary,  the  cross  remained  untouched  until 
Helena  mother  of  Constantine,  came  to  seek  it,  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty-eight  years  later,  and  distinguished  it  from 
the  crosses  of  the  malefactors,  lying  beside  it,  by  the 
miraculous   effect   it   had   upon  a  dying  woman,  whom  it 


58 


LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE, 


restored  to  life.  The  cross,  thus  recovered,  remained  in 
Jerusalem  until  borne  away  by  Chosroes,  King  of  Persia, 
from  which  country  it  was  recovered  by  Heraclius,  in  the 
vear  615  It  was  then  that  the  true  cross  was  divided  into 
innumerable  fragments,  which  have  gradually  been  scattered 
in  various  churches  throughout  the  world,  where  they  are 
always  regarded  as  relics  of  great  value. 


G:bc  eleven  ^EbousanD  IDlraina^ 

One  of  the  most  noted  churches  of  Cologne  is  dedicated 
to  St  Ursula,  and  is  richly  and  fantastically  decorated  with 
paintings  representing  various  scenes  of  her  life,  and  with 
the  bones  of  her  eleven  thousand  martyred  companions. 

Ursula  was  the  only  child  of  Vionetus,  or  Thionetus,  King 
of  Brittany,  and  of  his  beautiful  wife   Daria.     The  maiden 
showed    great   instincts   of  piety,  and  as  soon  as  she  was 
old  enough,  learned  to  read  all  the  theological  books  and 
treatises,   and   became  as  well  versed    in   theology  as   the 
most   learned   priest.      She  was  also  very    beautiful,  but 
early  in   life   she   registered   a   solemn   vow  to   serve   the 
Lord  only,  and  to  forego  marriage  and  all  worldly  pomps 
for  his  sake.     When  she  was  but  fifteen  years  of  age  Ursula 
lost  her  mother,  and  shortly  after  that  her  father,  whom  the 
Venetians  call  the  Moor,  received  an  embassy  from  Agrip- 
pinus,  King  of   England,  who  wished  to  secure   Ursula's 
hand*for  Conon,  his  only  son.     Vionetus,  knowing  that  a 
refusal   might  be   considered   so   insulting  as   to   entail  a 
bloody  war,  did  not  dare  to,say  no;  yet  he  could  not  bear  to 
force  his  child  into  a  detested  alliance.     While  he  was  pon- 
dering what  answer  he  could  give,  Ursula,  discovering  the 
cause  of  his  perplexity,  volunteered   to  give  her  own  reply. 
After  having  duly  prayed  she  summoned  the  ambassadors, 
and  told  them  she  would   consent  to  the  proposed  alliance. 


LANDING   OF   ST.   URSULA   AT   COLOGNE. 


COLOGNE, 


59 


provided  the  heathen  prince  would  embrace  Christianity, 
would  give  her  ten  handmaidens  of  spotless  purity  and 
noble  birth,  each  accompanied  by  a  thousand  virgins,  would 
supply  an  equal  number  of  virgin  attendants  for  her  own 
train,  would  grant  her  three  years  of  freedom  that  she 
might  make  a  pious  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  visiting  all  the 
holy  shrines  by  the  way,  and  would  claim  her  as  wife  only 
when  the  journey  was  ended. 

The  ambassadors,  having  received  this  answer,  hastened 
home,  where  they  described  the  Princess  Ursula's  beauty 
and  attainments  in  such  glowing  terms,  that  the  heathen 
prince  immediately  received  baptism,  and  collecting  the 
eleven  thousand  virgins  from  all  parts  of  his  kingdom,  sent 
them  over  to  Brittany  to  attend  their  future  queen. 

Ursula  received  the  maidens  gladly,  and  bidding  them 
assemble  in  a  flowery  meadow,  she  expounded  the  Gospel  so 
convincingly  that  she  soon  converted  them  all.  The  Eng- 
lish prince,  hastening  to  Brittany  at  her  summons,  was  told 
to  remain  for  a  while  and  comfort  her  father,  while  she 
and  her  maidens  embarked  in  a  number  of  vessels,  in  which 
they  intended  to  sail  for  Rome.  Dismissing  pilot  and  sailors, 
Ursula  declared  they  needed  no  other  guidance  and  assist- 
ance than  God's,  and  singing  pious  hymns  in  chorus,  the 
maiden  band  sailed  away.  Now,  either  because  Ursula  was 
deficient  in  geography,  or  because  she  was  indeed  guided  by 
an  unseen  hand,  she  steered  her  vessel  northward,  instead 
of  southward,  and  with  the  other  vessels  in  her  wake  entered 
the  Rhine,  where,  aided  by  favorable  winds,  she  sailed  against 
the  current,  disembarking  only  once  at  Cologne. 

Here  she  was  favored  by  the  vision  of  an  angel,  who 
appeared  at  the  foot  of  her  bed,  holding  the  martyr's  palm, 
to  warn  her  that  on  her  return  she  and  her  eleven  thousand 
virgin  companions  would  suffer  martyrdom  at  the  hands  of 
the  Huns.  Calmly  resuming  her  journey  on  the  morrow, 
Ursula  sailed  up  the  Rhine  to  Basel,  where,  according  to 
some  accounts,  she  was  met  by  the  captain  of  a  Christian 


■|  i 


6o 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


legion,  who  escorted  her  across  the  mountains.  Other  ver- 
sions relate  that  the  procession  of  spotless  maidens  was 
preceded  by  six  angels,  who  smoothed  the  road  under  their 
feet,  spread  tents  for  their  protection  at  night,  and  pro- 
vided food  and  refreshment  on  the  way. 

Still  singing  hymns  in  chorus,  the  maidens  arrived  in 
Rome,  where  Pope  Cyriacus  joyfully  received  and  blessed 
them,  and  where  they  were  joined  by  the  prince  and  his 
attendants,  who  had  also  undertaken  the  pilgrimage,  and 
had  hastened  to  Rome  by  another  way.  The  eleven  thou- 
sand virgins,  having  finished  visiting  all  the  shrines,  now 
prepared  to  return  northward,  accompanied  by  Prince 
Conon  and  his  attendants,  and  by  Pope  Cyriacus  and  sundry 
cardinals  and  priests. 

Two  Roman  generals,  heathens,  seeing  the  maidens 
depart,  and  fearing  lest  their  example  and  preaching  should 
convert  all  the  northern  barbarians,  sent  a  secret  message 
to  the  King  of  the  Huns,  who  was  then  besieging  Cologne, 
to  bid  him  slay  Ursula  and  her  train  as  soon  as  they  came  to 
that  point  on  their  way  down  the  Rhine. 

The  maiden  procession,  attended  by  the  prince  and  Pope, 
passed  over  the  Alps,  crossed  Switzerland,  re-embarked  at 
Basel,  and  sailed  down  the  Rhine  where  the  wild  Huns, 
after  slaying  all  the  men,  attacked  the  pious  maidens.  Ex- 
horted by  Ursula,  they  all  died  like  martyrs  and  went  to 
heaven  to  receive  the  promised  palm  and  crown.  Ursula, 
last  of  all,  was  pierced  by  three  arrows  from  the  Huns* 
bows,  and  only  one  of  her  maidens  managed  to  escape 
from  their  murderous  fury.  This  maiden,  Cordula  by 
name,  was  hiding  in  the  hold  of  one  of  the  vessels,  when 
she  was  favored  with  a  vision,  saw  the  skies  open,  and  beheld 
all  her  companions  enter  Paradise,  waving  their  palms  and 
singing  hymns  of  praise.  At  this  sight  she  repented  of 
her  cowardice,  and  after  a  fervent  prayer  left  her  hiding 
place  and  went  in  search  of  the  martyrdom  which  she  soon 
found. 


COLOGNE.  $r 

"  The  maiden  spoke  and  sought  the  shore  ; 
In  one  short  hour  she  lived  no  more. 
Upon  thy  lovely  banks,  O  Rhine, 
Poured  her  pure  blood  like  new-pressed  wine. 
Can  it  be  doubted  that  she  got 
The  high  reward  she  io  well  sought  ? 
Or  that,  amidst  the  maiden  choir, 
She  now,  in  glory,  strikes  the  lyre  ?  " 

— Rheincronik — Hagan. 

The  bones  of  the  eleven  thousand  holy  virgins  were 
hastily  interred,  but  none  knew  the  exact  spot  where  they 
had  been  buried,  until  Kunibert,  bishop  of  Cologne,  having 
fervently  prayed  that  he  might  discover  the  holy  relics  saw 
a  dove  come  down  from  the  sky,  and  after  fluttering  over- 
head for  a  moment,  flit  off  to  a  corner  of  the  church  where 
.t  began  to  scratch  diligently.  Guided  by  this  sign,  the 
bishop  began  a  search,  which  soon  proved  successful  The 
bones  of  the  eleven  thousand  virgins  now  serve  as  decora- 
tion for  the  church,  and  St.  Ursula's  remains,  having  been 
found  interred  separately,  were  placed  in  a  sarcophagus,  on 
which  the  miraculous  dove  is  represented,  * 


a  prompt  -Retort. 

The  Church  of  the  Minorites  in  Cologne,  which,  according 
to  the  legend,  was  erected  by  the  cathedral  workmen  during 
their  hours  of  rest,  is  supposed  to  have  been  begun  in  1220 
and  finished  forty  years  later. 

In  this  church  was  buried  the  celebrated  theologian  and 
philosopher.  Duns  Scotus,  whose  epitaph  F  gives  a  short 
r/sumioi  his  career,  for  beside  the  date  of  his  death,  1309  it 
bears  the  Latin  inscription,  "Scotia  me  genuit,  Anglia  me 
suscepit,  Gallia  me  docuit,  Colonia  me  tenet." 

According  to  tradition,  this  sage  was  buried  in  a  trance 
and  many  years  later,  when  the  vault  was  opened  to  receive 
a  new  inmate,  it  was  discovered  that  Duns  Scotus  had  left 

*  See  Note  7  in  Appendix. 


69 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


COLOGNE, 


63 


his  coffin  and  dragged  himself  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  where 
he  had  evidently  perished  of  cold,  hunger,  and  thirst.  Thus 
sadly  and  tragically  ended  the  life  of  one  of  the  wisest  men  of 
his  time,  who  was  also  noted  for  great  quickness  at  repartee. 
He  was  a  favorite  of  Charles  the  Bold,  who  often  invited  him 
to  his  table,  where  he  tried  to  call  forth  some  of  the  noted 
sallies  of  the  philosopher's  keen  wit.  On  one  occasion,  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy,  in  a  facetious  mood,  asked  the  sage  sitting 
opposite  him  what  was  the  difference  between  Scot  and  sot, 
wording  his  question   like  Bacon,  *' What  is  there  between 

Scot  and  Sot?" 

**The  table  only,"  replied  the  philosopher  promptly,  to 
the  great  discomfiture  of  his  princely  interlocutor,  who 
however  did  not  dare  to  resent  the  answer  which  he  had 
provoked. 


xrbe  flbagician  anD  tbc  Courtiers. 

In  the  Church  of  St.  Andrew  in  Cologne  can  be  seen  the 
tomb  and  relics  of  the  famous  magician  and  astrologer 
Albertus  Magnus,  who  lived  and  died  in  the  neighboring 
convent  of  the  Dominicans,  where  he  once  displayed  his 
marvelous     power    for  the    entertainment   of    William   of 

Holland. 

Invited  in  midwinter  to  a  garden  feast  in  the  convent, 
William  of  Holland  wonderingly  accepted  the  invitation, 
and  accompanied  by  his  courtiers,  all  clad  in  their  warmest 
garments  on  account  of  the  inclemency  of  the  season,  he 
resorted  thither  at  the  appointed  time.  The  guests  were 
immediately  led  into  the  gardens,— a  cheerless  picture  of 
wintry  gloom,— where  at  a  motion  from  the  magician's  wand 
the  scene  was  suddenly  changed  to  all  the  glory  of  mid- 
summer. 

Throwing  aside  the  warm  garments,  which  the  tropical 
heat  rendered  unendurable,  the  courtiers  flung  them  care- 
lessly down  on  the  grass,  and  gayly  partook  of  the  rich  viands 


and  cooling  drinks  brought  by  the  monks  for  their  delecta- 
tion. Jest,  song,  and  feasting  beguiled  the  time  so  success- 
fully that  the  guests  started  with  surprise  when  the  convent 
bell  suddenly  began  to  ring  the  "Ave  Maria."  At  the  first 
stroke  of  the  bell,  Albertus  Magnus'  magic  had  been  entirely 
dispelled,  and  the  courtiers,  standing  knee-deep  in  snow, 
tugged  at  their  garments,  which  were  half  incased  with 
ice,  longing  to  throw  them  over  their  shoulders  to  preserve 
themselves  from  the  icy  blasts  which  again  swept  down  from 
the  north. 

Their  sudden  dismay  and  frantic  efforts  greatly  amused  Wil- 
liam of  Holland,  who,  in  token  of  thanks  for  the  monks' gar- 
den party  in  midwinter,  gave  them  the  tract  of  land  between 
Cologne  and  Rodenkirchen.  The  courtiers  who  were  sent  to 
carry  this  deed  to  the  convent  on  the  morrow,  were  politely 
invited  into  the  refectory,  where  the  prior  poured  out  some 
of  his  choicest  wine  for  their  refreshment.  Charmed  with 
the  flavor  of  this  vintage,  the  messengers  drank  toast  after 
toast,  until  the  prior,  fearing  they  would  not  leave  until 
they  had  drained  the  cask,  implored  Albertus  Magnus  to 
devise  some  means  to  make  them  depart.  The  magician, 
therefore,  stepped  forward  and  again  filled  their  cups,  but 
when  the  guests  would  fain  have  tasted  this  wine  they  saw 
lurid  flames  rise  out  of  each  vessel,  and  in  their  terror  each 
turned  and  clutched  at  his  companion,  not  noticing  at  first 
that  each  had  caught  the  other  by  the  nose. 

The  flames  subsiding  suddenly,  they  were  covered  with 
confusion  at  their  absurd  position,  and  were  so  furious  at 
having  thus  been  turned  into  ridicule  that  they  left  imme- 
diately, and  never  returned  to  tax  the  convent  hospitality 
again. 


64 


b. 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


tTbc  SacrflecilouB  |>ainter. 


The  Church  of  St.  Mary  of  the  Capitol,  founded  by 
Plectrude,  mother  of  Charles  Martel,  upon  the  site  once 
occupied  by  the  Roman  Capitol,  possesses  as  altar-piece 
a  crucifix  to  which  great  miracles  are  attributed.  Some 
young  painters,  idly  talking  together  one  day,  dared  one  of 
their  number  to  enter  the  church  and  renew  the  sacred 
emblem's  freshness  by  giving  it  a  new  coat  of  paint. 

The  artist,  a  heedless  young  fellow,  immediately  accepted 
the  challenge,  and  knowing  the  priests  would  not  permit 
him  to  touch  their  holy  image  were  he  to  present  himself  in 
the  daytime,  he  entered  the  church  alone  at  midnight.  Just 
as  the  city  clocks  were  tolling  the  hour,  he  dipped  his 
brush  in  the  paint,  but  no  sooner  had  the  bristles  touched  the 
crucifix,  than  his  arm  fell  paralyzed  to  his  side. 

Gazing  upward  in  terror  at  the  figure  on  the  cross,  he 
fancied  he  saw  such  a  reproachful  glance  fall  upon  him  that 
he  fell  down  before  the  altar  in  convulsions.  A  priest  found 
him  there  early  in  the  morning,  but,  in  spite  of  every  care, 
he  expired  unconscious,  when  the  clocks  were  again  tolling 
the  midnight  hour,  and  since  then  no  painter  has  dared  to 
touch  the  sacred  image  on  the  altar. 


tCbe  Cbtiet  QStm  ati5  tbe  J8ov* 

A  POOR  widow  of  Cologne  daily  brought  her  only  child, 
a  little  boy  named  Hermann  Joseph,  to  pray  before  the 
image  of  the  Virgin  and  ChHd,  in  the  Church  of  St.  Mary 
of  the  Capitol.  The  little  fellow,  deeply  impressed  by  his 
mother's  stories,  and  by  the  beauty  of  the  image,  was  very 
anxious  indeed  to  make  some  offering,  such  as  he  saw  laid 
upon  the  shrine,  but,  as  they  were  very  poor  indeed,  he  had 
nothing  to  give. 


COLOGNE.  65 

It  happened  one  day,  however,  that  Hermann  Joseph,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  received  a  great  rosy-cheeked 
apple.  This  seemed  such  a  priceless  treasure  to  him  that 
he  rushed  off  alone  to  the  church,  and  kneeling  before  the 
image,  begged  Mary,  with  all  a  child's  innocent  faith,  to 
let  her  beautiful  babe  stoop  down,  and  take  in  his  little  hand 
the  gift  he  had  brought. 

This  simple  prayer  was  granted,  and  the  Virgin  bending 
down,  the  Christ  Child  took  the  apple  with  such  a  radiant 
smile  that  little  Hermann  Joseph  returned  home  beside  him- 
self with  delight.  In  hopes  of  pleasing  the  Child,  he  daily 
brought  a  tiny  offering  to  lay  at  its  feet,  scouring  the  hedge- 
rows for  the  daintiest  wild  flowers,  searching  for  wild  straw- 
berries, and  gathering  the  brightest  pebbles  he  could  find. 

When  Hermann  Joseph  was  ten  years  old,  however,  his 
mother  informed  him  that  she  was  too  poor  to  continue 
sending  him  to  school,  and  that  he  must  now  learn  a  trade, 
so  he  could  make  his  own  way  in  the  world  ere  long.  The 
poor  child,  who  loved  his  books,  and  had  hoped  to  become 
a  priest,  ran  tearfully  into  the  church,  and,  falling  down 
upon  his  knees,  confided  his  sorrow  to  the  Virgin  and  Child. 

When  he  had  ended  his  prayer,  a  gentle  voice  fell  upon 
his  ear,  and  looking  upward  he  saw,  as  well  as  heard,  that 
the  Virgin  was  speaking  to  him.  She  bade  him  lift  a  stone 
behind  the  altar,  beneath  which  he  would  find  a  sum  of 
money  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  go  to  school  and  become 
a  priest  as  he  wished. 

Overjoyed  at  this  promise,  little  Hermann  Joseph  sought 
and  found  the  money,  which  enabled  him  to  continue  his 
studies  and  enter  a  monastery.  There,  absorbed  in  his 
learned  researches,  he  forgot  the  Virgin  and  Child,  and 
spent  all  his  time  in  abstruse  study.  One  day,  however,  his 
memory  suddenly  deserted  him,  and  finding  he  could  re- 
member nothing  he  read,  he  closed  his  books  in  despair. 

Then  the  recollection  of  his  happy  childhood  came  back 
to  him,  and  realizing  how  forgetful  and  ungrateful  he  had 


66 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


W 


proved,  he  returned  to  Cologne,  where,  flinging  himself  on  his 
knees  before  the  image,  he  humbly  implored  forgiveness  for 
his  sins.  He  lingered  there  all  day  long  on  his  knees,  and  fell 
into  a  doze  toward  evening;  he  dreamed  the  Virgin  spoke  to 
him  as  of  old,  promising  him  a  happy  life  in  Paradise,  where 
the  Lord  would  repay  him  for  all  his  childish  offerings  by 
giving  him  heavenly  flowers  and  fruit  in  lavish  profusion. 

This  dream  comforted  Hermann  Joseph  greatly,  and  when 
he  awoke  and  found  his  memory  entirely  restored,  he  re- 
turned fervent  thanks.  He  returned  to  his  convent,  and 
resumed  his  studies,  which,  however,  never  again  made  him 
forget  to  worship  the  Holy  Mother  and  Child. 

In  commemoration  of  this  legend,  a  statue  has  been 
placed  in  the  church  of  St.  Mary  of  the  Capitol,  representing 
the  Infant  Jesus  bending  do^n  to  accept  Hermann  Joseph's 

first  childish  gift. 

According  to  another  version  of  this  legend,  the  child 
Hermann  Joseph  died  while  he  was  very  young  indeed,  and 
the  mourning  mother  was  comforted  by  a  dream,  in  which 
the  Infant  Jesus  spoke  to  her,  promising  her  child  should 
be  his  playmate  in  heaven,  and  reap  a  rich  reward  for  his 
childish  gifts.  Knebel  has  versified  this  form  of  the  legend, 
and  his  poem  concludes  with  the  lines: 

**  And  thus  he  spoke  in  dying: 
*  O  mother,  dear,  I  see 
The  beautiful  Child  Jesus 
A-coming  down  to  me  ! 

*• '  And  in  his  hand  he  beareth 

Bright  flowers  as  white  as  snow, 
And  red  and  juicy  strawberries. 
Dear  mother,  let  me  go  !  * 

"He  died.     And  that  fond  mother 
Her  tears  could  not  restrain  ; 
But  she  knew  he  was  with  Jesus 
And  she  did  not  weep  again." 


COLOGNE. 


(Tbe  •Resurrection  ot  St.  yiSatemua. 


67 


The  Church  of  St.  Gereon,  in  Cologne,  is  also  known  as 
the  Church  of  the  Martyrs,  in  honor  of  the  three  hundred 
and  eighteen  soldiers  of  the  Thebaid  legion.  They  suffered 
persecution  there  with  their  captain  Gereon,  under  the 
Emperor  Diocletian,  and  their  bones  still  serve  to  decorate 
the  building. 

The  first  church  on  this  site  is  said  to  have  been  erected 
by  order  of  the  Empress  Helena,  over  the  bones  of  St. 
Maternus.  The  legends  relate  that  when  this  good  and 
holy  man  died  the  people,  unable  to  live  without  his  wise 
counsels,  implored  St.  Peter,  who  was  then  bishop  of  Rome, 
to  restore  him  to  life. 

When  St.  Peter  heard  this  appeal,  he  looked  fixedly  in 
the  direction  of  Cologne  and  cried  in  loud  tones:  **The 
time  of  rest  has  not  yet  come,  Maternus.  Arise,  and  fight 
for  the  Cross."  Then,  turning  to  the  messenger,  he  gave 
him  his  staff,  and  bade  him  hasten  homeward,  and  lay  it  on 
the  grave,  promising  that  the  saint  would  come  to  life  again, 
although  he  would  already  have  lain  forty  days  in  the  tomb. 

St.  Peter's  prediction  was  duly  fulfilled,  the  good  old 
saint  rose  from  the  dead,  lived  as  many  years  after  his 
resurrection  as  he  had  spent  days  in  the  tomb,  and  when  he 
died,  at  last,  it  was  with  the  full  consciousness  that  he  had 
obeyed  St.  Peter's  injunctions,  fought  the  good  fight  to 
the  end,  and  deserved  the  rest  which  was  awaiting  him  in 
the  many  mansions. 


ZTbe  Cburcb  of  tbe  Bpoetled. 

JosT  VON  Buhl,  the  wealthy  merchant  of  Cologne,  was 
very  unhappy  indeed,  as  he  remorsefully  thought  of  his 
many  sins,  and  wondered  how  he  could  make  the  scales  of 
justice  incline  in  his  favor  when  the  great  and  terrible  Day  of 
Judgment  came.     All  night  long  he  pondered  this  question, 


;   •' 


i;" 


68  LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 

and  when  morning  dawned,  he  hastened  down  to  the  river 
side  purchased  a  whole  boat-load  of  fine  blocks  of  stone, 
and  had  them  carted  up  to  the  place  where  the  Church  of 
the  Apostles,  which  had  fallen  into  ruins,  was  slowly  being 
rebuilt  He,  himself,  went  with  the  carters,  and  when  they 
halted  before  the  place,  stepped  up  to  the  monks  who  were 
gazing  in  open-mouthed  astonishment  at  the  long  procession 
of  carts  and  said:  -Good  Fathers,  is  it  quite  true  that  one 
good  deed  will  outweigh  many  bad  ones,  when  the  Holy 
Apostles  weigh  our  sins  and  virtues  in  their  scales  on   the 

Judgment  Day  ?" 

<'  Yes-  it  is  true,"  answered  the  monks  wonderingly. 
**Well,   then,"  exclaimed  Jost  von  Buhl,  **  I'll  give  you 
these  stones  to  rebuild  your  church,  trusting  they  will  prove 
ponderous  enough  to  make  the  scales  tip  in  my  favor,  and 
outbalance  my  sins  on  the  last  day." 

The  church  which  the  wealthy  merchant  thus  helped  to 
rebuild  in  the  thirteenth  century  was  daily  visited,  about 
one  hundred  years  later,  by  the  beautiful  young  wife  of 
Mengis  von  Aducht,  who  came  there  to  implore  the  Virgin  to 
grant  her  dearest  wish  and  give  her  a  child. 

One  day  when  this  fair  lady,  Richmodis,  had  been  pray- 
ing more  fervently  than  usual,  the  Virgin  suddenly  leaned 
down  from  the  altar  and  gave  her  a  skull.  She  accepted 
it  and  gazed  upon  it  in  sad  resignation,  thinking  it  surely 
portended  an  early  death  instead  of  maternity.  But  while 
she  was  thus  silently  gazing  down  upon  it,  she  saw  three 
delicate  white  roses  spring  out  of  the  skull,  change  to  white- 
winged  angels,  and  softly  fly  away. 

Pondering  deeply  on  this  mystery,  Richmodis  returned 
home,  was  taken  ill,  died,  and  was  buried,  by  order  of  her 
inconsolable  husband,  in  the  church  she  loved  so  well.  The 
night  after  her  interment,  while  Mengis  sat  mourning  alone 
in  his  empty  house,  the  sexton,  an  avaricious  man,  stole 
into  the  church,  lantern  in  hand,  opened  the  tomb,  and 
prepared  to  rob  Richmodis  of  her  costly  jewels. 


COLOGNE. 


69 


But  just  as  he  bent  over  the  corpse  to  draw  the  wedding 
ring  from  her  finger,  he  saw  her  slowly  rise.  As  he  fled  in 
terror,  she  crept  out  of  the  tomb,  crossed  the  market  place, 
and  knocked  loudly  at  the  door  of  her  house.  The  mourn- 
ing knight  von  Aducht  was  roused  from  his  abstraction  by 
the  sudden  appearance  of  his  frightened  servants,  who  breath- 
lessly declared  that  their  beloved  mistress  stood  in  the  street 
waiting  for  admittance. 

Mengis  von  Aducht  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  gazed  at  them  in 
wonder,  and  mournfully  said:  **  Alas!  the  beloved  dead  never 
return,  and  I  would  sooner  believe  that  my  horses  were  gaz- 
ing out  of  the  attic  window,  than  credit  the  idle  tales  you  tell. " 

Hardly  had  the  words  left  his  lips,  however,  when  a  heavy 
tramping  was  heard  along  the  stairs  and  overhead,  and  a 
moment  later  his  faithful  steeds  thrust  their  heads  out  of 
the  attic  window,  whinnying  plaintively  as  they  felt  the  cool 
night  air. 

Convinced  by  this  miracle  of  the  truth  of  the  servants' 
statements,  the  knight  now  rushed  to  the  door,  caught  his 
recovered  wife  in  his  arms,  carried  her  into  bed,  and  a 
few  days  later  she  was  entirely  restored  to  life  and  health. 
She  even  lived  to  bear  three  beautiful  children,  who  were  so 
good  and  lovely  that  all  deemed  them  angels,  and  she  often 
told  them  the  story  of  her  reception  of  the  skull,  which  por- 
tended her  death,  and  of  the  three  white  roses  which  sprang 
out  of  it  and  represented  them,  imploring  them  to  do  all  in 
their  power  to  become  angels  at  last,  that  the  whole  vision 
might  come  true. 

As  for  Mengis  von  Aducht,  he  ordered  horses'  heads  to  be 
carved  in  stone,  and  placed  under  the  gable  of  his  roof,  as  a 
constant  reminder  of  the  night  when  his  steeds  climbed  up 
to  the  attic  and  gazed  out  of  the  window  into  the  street, 
where  his  newly  risen  wife  was  patiently  waiting  for  re- 
admittance  into  his  house  and  heart.  These  stone  heads  can 
still  be  seen,  and  are  one  of  the  curiosities  always  pointed 
out  to  strangers  in  the  quaint  city  of  Cologne. 


1  !• 


70 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE. 


ANNO,  bishop  of  Cologne,  lay  all  alone  in  his  bed  chamber 
in  the  Episcopal  palace,  one  night,  but  while  all  his  attend- 
ants were  plunged  in  slumber,  he  alone  could  not  sleep. 
The  thought  of  his  sins  kept  him  awake,  and  in  the  wee 
small  hours  of  the  night  he  winced  at  the  thought  of  the 
tyranny  he  had  shown  in  robbing  the  people  of  all  their 

former  privileges. 

While  he  was  musing  thus,  the  Angel  of  Death  suddenly 
entered  his  room,  pronounced  the  mystical  words  which 
seoarate  soul  and  body,  and  a  moment  later  the  bishop  saw 
his  own  corpse  lying  stiff  and  cold,  and  was  hurried  away 
by  the  angel  through  unlimited  space.  In  a  few  seconds  he 
was  brought  into  a  vast  hall,  illumined  by  tall  tapers,  and 
filled  with  the  intoxicating  perfume  of  the  most  precious 

incense. 

Anno  gazed  about  him  in  surprise,  and  saw  that  he  was  in 
a  goodly  assembly  of  all  the  noble  bishops  who  had  passed 
away  before  him.  He  recognized  among  others,  the  bishops 
of  Cologne,  St.  Maternus,  Severinus,  Kunibert,  Hildebold, 
Bruno,  St.  Herbert,  and  his  own  predecessor  Hermann,  beside 
whom  was  a  vacant  seat.  Conjecturing  that  this  place  was 
reserved  for  him.  Anno  was  about  to  sit  down,  when  Arnold, 
bishop  of  Worms,  detained  him,  and,  pointing  to  a  hideous 
stain  on  his  breast,  declared  in  solemn  tones: 

**None  but  the  stainless  can  sit  here.     Return  to  earth, 
oh,  brother!  remove  the  stain,  and   then  we   will  welcome 

you." 

Reluctantly,  for  he  was  very  sorry  to  leave  this  peaceful 
spot,  Anno  returned  to  earth,  resumed  his  abode  in  his 
lifeless  clay,  and  when  morning  came  hastened  to  atone 
for  the  sins  of  the  past  by  restoring  all  their  former  privi- 
leges to  the  inhabitants  of  Cologne,  and  doing  penance  for 
his  sins. 


COLOGNB. 


71 


The  next  night,  when  all  was  still,  the  Angel  of  Death 
again  came  to  visit  him,  and  led  him  away  to  the  heavenly 
mansion,  where,  seeing  the  disfiguring  stain  had  vanished, 
the  bishops  gladly  received  him  in  their  midst  to  dwell  with 
them  in  bliss  forever. 


Xtbe  I3ein3clmanncben. 

In  the  good  old  days,  when  fairies,  elves,  and  dwarfs  con- 
stantly visited  the  earth,  when  wishes  were  immediately 
granted,  the  virtuous  always  rewarded  and  the  wicked 
invariably  punished,  the  inhabitants  of  Cologne  were  par- 
ticularly favored,  as  they  were  under  the  protection  of 
the  Heinzelmannchen,  a  tiny  race  of  benevolent  beings,  who 
stole  noiselessly  into  their  houses  at  night,  and  deftly 
finished  all  the  work  which,  though  begun,  had  been  set  aside 
before  it  was  ended.* 

Relying  upon  their  aid,  the  bakers  set  their  dough  to 
raise,  slept  soundly,  and  when  they  awoke  found  piles  of 
newly  baked  loaves;  the  miller's  grain  was  ground,  and  the 
flour  tied  up  in  sacks;  the  housewives'  rooms  were  swept  and 
dusted,  the  spinner's  flax  all  spun,  and  a  tailor  in  town 
always  found  the  garments  he  had  begun  to  cut  out,  duly 
made  and  pressed,  lying  neatly  folded  upon  his  table. 

Now,  the  tailor's  wife  was  a  very  inquisitive  woman,  and 
very  anxious  to  see  the  benevolent  Heinzelmannchen,  who 
labored  so  kindly  for  them.  As  she  was  a  heavy  sleeper 
and  could  not  easily  wake  up,  she  strewed  dry  pease  all  over 
the  floor  ere  she  went  to  bed  one  evening.  The  tiny 
Heinzelmannchen,  racing  ^to  and  fro  in  their  busy  haste, 
stepped  on  the  pease,  tripp'ed  and  fell,  making  such  a  clatter 
with  the  irons,  tongs,  scissors,  etc.,  that  the  tailor's  wife, 
waking  up,  hastened  to  take  a  peep  at  them. 

The  Heinzelmannchen,  seeing  her,  and  guessing  that  it 
was  she  who  had  strewn  pease  on  the  floor,  were  so  indig- 
nant  that  they  left   the   house   and  town   forever.     Since 

*  See  Note  8  in  Appendix. 


79 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


COLOGNE, 


75 


then  the  people  of  Cologne  have  been  obliged  to  do  their 
tasks  unaided,  and  all  the  work  which  is  not  finished  at  night- 
fall is  sure  to  be  found  in  the  same  unsatisfactory  state  in 
the  morning,  for  the  Heinzelmannchen  have  vowed  never  to 
visit  the  town  again. 

A  KNIGHT  and  his  beautiful  little  eight-year-old  daughter 
Beatrix  once  paused  at  the  gate  of  a  convent  in  Cologne 
where  dismounting,  the  knight  intrusted  his  child  to  the 
holy  nuns,  bidding  them  take  good  care  of  her,  and  admit 
her  ioto  their  order,  if,  at  the  end  of  ten  years,  he  had  not 
returned  from  Palestine  to  claim  her. 

Ten  years  passed  by,  and  the  beautiful  child  had  become 
a  lovely  maiden,  whom  all  the  nuns  loved  dearly,  and  to 
whose  deft  fingers  they  owed  the  floral  decorations  which 
daily  decked  the  Virgin's  altar  in  the  convent  chapel.  The 
nuns,  wishing  to  give  Beatrix  every  facility  to  steal  in  and 
out  of  the  chapel  to  carry  her  flowers,  had  even  intrusted 
the  key  to  her  keeping,  and  when  the  ten  years  were  ended, 
they  readily  prevailed   upon  her  to  become  a  novice. 

A  few  days  after,  when  Beatrix  was  in  the  convent  garden, 
gathering  flowers,  the  portress  bade  her  step  into  her  cell, 
and  gaze  out  of  her  window — the  only  opening  beside  the 
door  in  the  long  wall — and  see  the  bright  pageant  filing  past. 
Beatrix,  eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  gay  world  which 
she  only  dimly  remembered,  leaned  out  of  the  casement, 
and  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  a  handsome  young 
knight,  who  threw  her  a  kiss.  A  few  days  later  the  little 
novice  stole  into  the  chapel  at  midnight,  laid  the  keys  at 
the  Virgin's  feet,  told  her  she  was  about  to  steal  forth  into 
the  world  to  join  one  who  loved  her  dearly,  and  implored 
her  forgiveness,  and  a  kindly  welcome  should  she  ever 
return.  Then,  stealing  out  into  the  street,  the  little  novice 
vanished,  and  it  was  only  fifteen  years  later  that  a  veiled 


lady  rang  at  the  convent  gate,  inquiring  of  the  portress 
whether  the  convent  had  not  sheltered  a  novice  by  the  name 
of  Beatrix  some  fifteen  years  before. 

The  portress,  a  garrulous  old  crone,  immediately  informed 
her  that  Beatrix  was  there  still,  honored  by  all  for  her 
many  virtues,  and,  that  although  she  had  refused  to  take  the 
veil  for  many  a  year,  she  was  to  take  her  conventual  vows 
on  the  morrow.  Then,  at  the  stranger's  request,  the  por- 
tress  pointed  out  the  entrance  to  the  chapel,  which  opened 
out  into  the  street,  and  watched  her  glide  into  the  empty 
place  of  worship. 

The  returned  Beatrix,  for  it  was  she,  fell  upon  her  knees, 
and  implored  the  Virgin's  pardon.  To  her  utter  astonish- 
ment she  then  heard  the  image  on  the  altar  relate  that  for 
fifteen  long  years,  the  Virgin,  in  her  guise,  had  faithfully 
fulfilled  the  duties  which  she  now  bade  her  resume,  instruct- 
ing her  to  take  the  vows  on  the  morrow. 

The  nuns,  coming  into  the  chapel  at  dawn,  found  the 
novice  Beatrix,  who  had  spent  the  night  in  prayer  at  the 
foot  of  the  altar,  and  tenderly  led  her  away  to  array  her 
for  the  ceremony,  little  thinking  that  she  had  been  absent 
fifteen  years,  and  that  it  was  the  Virgin  who  had  served  the 
novitiate  in  her  stead. 

The  new  nun  now  lived  such  a  holy,  exemplary  life  that  she 
became  the  pattern  of  all  the  sisterhood,  and  finally  died  in 
such  great  odor  of  sanctity  that  she  was  canonized. 


The  city  of  Cologne  was  once  strongly  fortified.  Now 
the  mighty  walls  have  all  been  razed,  the  moats  filled,  and 
the  space  they  occupied  is  used  as  a  public  park  or  prome- 
nade. Several  of  the  old  city  gates  have  been  allowed  to 
stand,  however;  the  most   noted  among  these  monuments 


74 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


being  the  Hahnenthor  and  the  Pfaffenthor,  of  which  latter 
tlie  following  story  is  told  : 

At  one  time  the  burghers  of  the  city  were  very  anxious 
indeed  to  maintain  their  freedom,  which  the  various  arch- 
bishops had  tried  to  restrict  in  many  ways.  Engelbert  the 
Holy,  coming  to  the  Episcopal  see,  determined  to  get  the 
better  of  this  rebellious  element,  and  with  this  purpose  in 
view  took  measures  to  secure  its  noted  leader,  Hermann 
Gryn. 

As  he  dared  not  make  away  with  him  openly,  he  had 
recourse  to  a  stratagem,  and  sent  a  message  to  the  worthy 
burgher,  inviting  him  to  a  convent  near  the  city  gates,  where 
he  wished  to  hold  a  secret  interview  with  him  and  discuss 
the  best  plan  for  settling  their  continual  feuds.  Hermann 
Gryn  promised  faithfully  to  be  present  at  the  appointed 
hour  and  place,  but,  instead  of  keeping  the  matter  secret, 
as  the  prelate  had  requested,  he  imparted  it  to  the  city 
council,  telling  them  he  was  not  without  fear  of  foul  play, 
and  begging  them  to  come  to  his  rescue,  should  his  absence 
be  too  prolonged. 

Courageously  then,  Gryn  wended  his  way  alone  to  the 
convent,  knocked,  and  was  admitted.  They  led  him  along 
dark  passages,  until  he  came  before  a  heavy  iron  door,  which 
the  monks  told  him  opened  into  the  archbishop's  private 
rooms.  Here  they  bade  him  enter  alone,  as  their  presence 
was  not  desired  at  the  interview. 

Hermann  immediately  complied  with  what  seemed  a  very 
natural  request,  but  when  he  found  himself  in  total  dark- 
ness, and  heard  the  iron  door  quickly  shut  and  locked  be- 
hind him,  he  was  seized  with  dismay.  He  then  remem- 
bered that  the  monks  kept  a  lion  as  a  curiosity,  and 
concluded  that  he  had  treacherously  been  exposed  to  its 

fury. 

A  moment  later  a  loud  roar  broke  the  silence,  proving 
that  his  conjectures  were  true ;  so  he  quickly  drew  the  sword 
which  he  wore  hidden  under  his  cloak,  resolved  to  defend 


COLOGNE. 
City  Hall. 


BRAUWEILER. 


75 


his  life.  A  terrible  struggle  took  place  in  the  darkness,  but 
the  man  finally  slew  the  lion,  and  stepping  over  its  carcass 
began  to  explore  his  prison,  which  was  lighted  at  the  farther 
end  by  a  small  grated  window.  When  evening  came,  and 
the  worthy  burghers  saw  no  signs  of  their  beloved  leader's 
return,  they  went  in  haste  to  the  convent,  where  the  brothers 
told  them  that  Hermann  Gryn  had  imprudently  ventured 
into  the  lion's  den  and  been  slain.  Deceived  by  the  monks' 
pretended  sorrow,  the  burghers  began  to  bewail  their  loss 
as  they  slowly  moved  away,  but,  suddenly,  their  mourning 
ceased,  for  through  a  grated  window  they  saw  a  hand 
frantically  beckoning  to  them,  and  heard  Gryn's  voice 
calling   them  to  the   rescue. 

To  storm  the  convent,  break  in  the  doors,  rescue  Gryn, 
and  learn  from  his  lips  the  whole  story  of  the  monks'  per- 
fidy, did  not  take  the  enraged  citizens  very  long,  and  in 
their  indignation  they  seized  and  hung  the  lying  brothers 
under  the  great  arched  doorway,  which  has  since  been  known 
as  the  Pfaffenthor  or  priests'  door. 

To  commemorate  Hermann  Gryn's  brave  face  to  face 
encounter  with  the  lion,  a  bas-relief  representing  the  scene 
was  placed  directly  above  the  main  entrance  of  the  City  Hall 
of  Cologne,  where  it  can  still  be  seen. 


4 


BRAUWEILER. 

(Tbc  (Bamc  of  Cbe60» 

As  Otto  III.  was  but  a  child  when  his  father  died,  leaving 
him  heir  to  the  Western  Empire,  the  cares  of  the  govern- 
ment were  intrusted  to  his  mother,  and  to  a  handsome  and 
capable  young  nobleman  named  Ezzo,  who  acquitted  him- 
self nobly  of  this  charge. 

The  young  emperor  was  brought  up  at  court  under  his 
mother's  eye,  but  his  lovely  sister,  Mathilda,  was  sent  to 


70 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE, 


BRA  UWEILER, 


77 


the  convent  at  Brauweiler,  where  she  spent  many  years 
under  the  care  of  the  nuns,  leaving  this  quiet  retreat  only 
to  witness  the  coronation  of  her  brother,  which  took  place 
as  soon  as  he  was  of  age  to  reign  alone. 

Count  Ezzo,  who,  as  already  stated,  was  young  and  hand- 
some, no  sooner  saw  the  lovely  princess  than  he  fell  deeply 
in  love  with  her,  and  his  heart  beat  high  with  pleasure  when 
he  noticed  that  she  seemed  to  prefer  his  society  and  conver- 
sation to  tJiat  of  all  the  other  courtly  knights.  His  hap- 
piness was  of  short  duration,  however,  for  Mathilda  soon 
returned  to  her  convent  home,  and  he  became  so  melancholy 
and  absent-minded  that  the  emperor  began  to  marvel  at  the 
sudden  change  in  his  usually  genial  companion.  Thinking 
to  divert  him  from  the  sad  thoughts,  whose  cause  he  did  not 
in  the  least  suspect.  Otto  one  day  challenged  Ezzo  to  a  game 
of  chess,  laughingly  exclaimijig  that  the  victor  of  three  suc- 
cessive games  might  ask  the  vanquished  for  any  boon  he 
chose,  which  the  latter  would  be  forced  to  grant. 

Pale  and  trembling  with  eagerness,  for  he  now  saw  a  way 
to  urge  his  suit,  which,  until  then,  had  seemed  hopeless, 
Ezzo  began  the  game,  and  played  so  skillfully  that  he  beat 
his  sovereign  thrice.  Then,  falling  at  the  monarch's  feet, 
he  asked  for  the  hand  of  Mathilda,  which  Otto,  mindful  of 
his  promise,  agreed  to  bestow  upon  him,  providing  he 
could  win  the  young  lady's  consent. 

Seeing  the  ill-suppressed  anxiety  and  impatience  of  the 
suitor,  Otto  then  laughingly  bade  him  prepare  to  bear  an 
important  missive  to  the  Brauweiler  convent,  telling  him  to 
be  sure  and  wait  until  he  received  an  answer  to  it  in  person. 
Ezzo,  needless  to  state,  was  soon  ready,  and  rode  in  hot 
haste  to  the  convent,  where,  as  bearer  of  an  imperial  mes- 
sage, he  was  allowed  to  see  the  Princess  Mathilda  alone. 

The  answer  to  the  letter  must  have  been  all  he  could  wish, 
for  he  soon  informed  the  prioress  that  he  had  come  to 
escort  the  princess  to  court,  where  she  was  to  be  married. 
The  prioress,  hearing  this  news,   shook   her  head  in  dis- 


may, and  vainly  tried  to  prevail  upon  Mathilda  to  select  a 
heavenly  rather  than  an  earthly  spouse.  As  the  young 
couple  were  about  to  ride  away  she  again  renewed  her 
entreaties,  and  seeing  no  signs  of  relenting  in  the  princess* 
beautiful,  blushing  face,  she  angrily  exclaimed  : 

'*  I'd  sooner  believe  this  withered  staff  could  again  bud  and 
bear  leaves,  than  that  any  good  will  accrue  to  you  out  of 
this  alliance." 

Ezzo,  seeing  a  cloud  pass  over  his  beloved's  countenance 
at  these  ominous  words,  hurled  after  her  instead  of  the 
customary  blessing,  suddenly  caught  the  staff  out  of  the 
holy  mother's  hand,  thrust  it  deep  in  the  earth  near  the 
convent  door,  and  exclaimed,  **Let  it  remain  there,  holy 
mother,  and  we  will  see  whether  or  not  God  approves  of 
the  union  of  loving  hearts,  and  sanctions  earthly  mar- 
riages," ere  he  rode  gayly  away  at  Mathilda's  side.  The 
marriage  preparations  were  soon  ended,  the  nuptial  cere- 
mony took  place,  and  as  the  solemn  benediction  was  pro- 
nounced over  the  newly  married  couple,  the  mulberry  staff 
put  forth  its  first  tiny  little  leaf.  Little  by  little  it  grew 
and  developed,  until  it  became  a  mighty  tree,  and  flourished 
as  proudly  as  Ezzo  and  Mathilda,  who  lived  happily 
together,  and  whose  many  children  grew  up  to  be  as  good 
and  happy  as  they. 

The  mulberry  tree  is  still  standing  near  the  Brauweiler 
convent,  at  a  short  cfistance  from  Cologne,  and  whenever 
it  shows  any  signs  of  decay,  if  true  lovers  kiss  beneath  its 
shade,  it  is  sure  to  send  forth  a  fresh  shoot,  which  in  due 
time  replaces  the  withered  and  dried  up  tree.* 

*  See  Note  9  in  Appendix. 


I 


78 


LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE, 


ARNOLDSWEILER. 


XTbe  /Rinetrcrs  IRtDc. 

Arnold,  the  minstrel,  was  once  invited  to  accompany 
Charlemagne  on  a  hunting  expedition  to  the  great  Burgel- 
wald  forest,  where  plentiful  game  was  to  be  found,  so  that 
he  might  amuse  the  emperor  and  his  guests,  while  they  sat 
at  meat  and  rested  from  their  strenuous  exertions. 

At  noon,  one  day,  the  emperor  bade  Arnold  sing  to  him, 
and  was  so  charmed  with  the  minstrel's  great  talent,  that 
he  promised  to  grant  him  as  much  land  as  he  could  ride 
around  ere  the  meal  was  ended.  Arnold  immediately 
sprang  on  the  emperor's  own  steed,  which  was  offered 
him,  and  rode  rapidly  away,  scoring  the  tree-boles  with 
his  sword  as  he  dashed  by. 

As  the  minstrel  urged  the  horse  to  its  utmost  speed,  the 
animal  had  not  gone  very  far  ere  it  began  to  show  signs 
of  fatigue,  but  Arnold,  who  had  foreseen  this,  and  cleverly 
stationed  relays  of  horses  along  the  road  he  intended  to 
pursue,  urged  him  ruthlessly  on,  nor  paused  except  to 
change  steeds,  when  he  came  to  the  first  station  he  had 
marked  out.  Riding  thus  at  full  speed,  and  changing 
horses  ere  their  energy  quite  flagged,  he  rode  around  all  the 
Burgelwald,  and  when  he  returned  to  the  camp  the  emperor 
laughingly  remarked  that  he  had  returned  too  soon,  was 
evidently  too  modest,  and  concluded  by  asking  how  much 
land  he  now  claimed. 

"The  whole  forest !  "  exclaimed  the  minstrel,  falling  at  the 
emperor's  feet,  and  then  he  boldly  confessed  the  stratagem 
which  he  had  used.*  The  emperor  freely  forgave  him  when 
Arnold  informed  him  that  he  had  acted  thus  merely  to 
secure  the  revenues  of  the  BUrgelwald  for  the  benefit  of  the 
poor  and  sick.  Charlemagne,  touched  by  his  humanity, 
gave  him  also  the  neighboring  castle,  which  became  the 
home  of  Arnold's  descendants,  who  all  cared  for  the  poor 

*  See  Note  lo  in  Appendix. 


ZUNDORF. 


79 


as  diligently  as  the  minstrel,  in  whose  honor  the  neighboring 
village  of  Arnoldsweiler  is  named. 


ZUNDORF. 

^be  Crystal  palace. 

In  the  bed  of  the  Rhine,  between  Zundorf  and  the  little 
island  of  the  same  name,  is  the  crystal  palace  of  Father 
Rhine,  if  the  report  of  a  village  midwife  is  to  be  believed. 
One  night,  when  she  was  about  to  retire,  this  woman  was 
suddenly  called  away  from  home  by  a  taciturn  man,  en- 
veloped in  a  great  cloak,  and  carrying  a  lantern  of  curious 
pattern. 

Following  him  closely  in  the  pouring  rain,  she  stumbled 
along  in  the  darkness  until  she  felt  cold  water  eddy  around 
her  ankles.  She  was  about  to  jump  back  in  terror,  when 
the  man  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  plunged  with  her  right 
into  the  river.  When  she  opened  her  eyes  again,  she  found 
herself  in  a  beautiful  crystal  palace,  all  set  with  precious 
stones,  where  she  was  shortly  bidden  to  take  good  care  of  a 
beautiful  golden-haired  nymph  or  Undine. 

The  nurse  was  so  efficient,  that  before  many  hours  had 
passed  her  patient  was  comfortably  settled,  and  able  to  talk 
a  little.  In  soft  whispers  the  golden-haired  lady  now  con- 
fided to  the  old  nurse  that  her  husband  was  the  mighty 
water  spirit  whom  mortals  call  Father  Rhine,*  while  she 
was  the  only  daughter  of  the  Lord  of  Rheidt. 

One  day,  clad  in  foamy  green,  and  disguised  as  a  mortal 
Father  Rhine  had  appeared  at  the  village  dance,  invited  het 
to  tread  a  measure  with  him,  and  whirling  her  around  in 
ever  widening  circles  had  reached  the  river  edge  and  sud- 
denly plunged  with  her  into  the  stream,  where  he  had  con- 
veyed her  to  his  crystal  palace  and  made  her  his  happy  wife. 

The  fair  young  lady  then   cautioned  the  old   woman   to 

*  See  "  Myths  of  Northern  Lands,"  by  the  author. 


8o 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


accept  no  more  than  the  usual  reward  for  her  services,  no 
matter  how  eagerly  her  husband  might  press  her  to  accept 
rich  gifts,  and  closed  her  eyes  in  feigned  sleep  as  Father 
Rhine  appeared.  Seeing  his  beloved  wife  entirely  out  of 
danger,  the  river  god  beckoned  to  the  nurse  to  follow  him, 
led  her  into  his  treasure  chamber,  where  lay  great  heaps  of 
gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones,  and  bade  her  help  herself. 

The  old  woman,  mindful  of  the  advice  just  received, 
passed  by  jewels  and  gold,  selected  the  small  silver  coin 
which  was  her  usual  guerdon,  and  resisting  all  her  mysteri- 
ous conductor's  entreaties  to  take  more,  signified  her  readi- 
ness to  depart. 

Taking  her  by  the  hand,  Father  Rhine  then  passed  along 
a  dark  corridor,  rose  with  her  through  the  limpid  flood, 
deposited  her,  dripping  but  safe,  on  the  shore  near  her 
native  town,  and  vanished,  after  flinging  a  whole  handful 
of  gold  into  her  lap.  Ever  since  then,  the  simple  people 
delight  in  telling  of  the  marvels  of  the  crystal  palace 
beneath  the  flood,  for  the  old  woman  often  described  it 
minutely  for  the  benefit  of  her  admiring  listeners,  always 
producing  a  handful  of  gold  in  proof  of  the  truth  of  her  tale. 


GODORF. 

OTc  •UDlill=o*:=tbC:=1D(!ltep* 

The  marshy  peninsula  which  extends  between  GoJ>?f 
and  Rodenkirchen  is  said  to  be  the  favorite  resort  of  the 
sprite  known  all  along  the  Rhine  as  the  Herwisch,  and  in 
England  as  the  Will-o'-the-Wisp.  Thi<^  mischievous  little 
creature  is  said  to  delight  in  leading  unsuspecting  travelers 
astray,  and  in  playing  all  manner  of  pranks,  but,  like  most 
practical  jokers,  he  is  quick  to  resent  any  attempt  to  make 

fun  of  him. 

One  day  a  maiden,  passing  across  this  stretch  of  ground 


AIX-LA  -  CHAPELLE, 


8 1 


\ 


% 


at  nightfall,  began  to  sing  all  the  songs  she  knew,  to  beguile 
the  loneliness  of  the  way  and  inspire  her  with  courage. 
Having  soon  come  to  the  end  of  her  scanty  repertoire,  she 
carelessly  sang  a  mocking  ditty  about  the  Herwisch,  who, 
enraged  at  her  impudence,  came  rushing  toward  her  threat- 
eningly brandishing  his  tiny  lantern. 

With  a  cry  of  terror,  the  girl  began  to  run,  closely 
pursued  by  the  sprite,  who,  in  punishment  for  her  derisive 
song,  flapped  his  wings  in  her  face  and  frightened  her  so 
badly  that  she  became  an  idiot. 

Since  then,  the  young  people  of  Germany  have  never 
dared  to  sing  the  mocking  refrain,  and  carefully  avoid  men- 
tioning the  Herwisch's  name  after  nightfall,  lest  they 
should   in   some   way  arouse   his  anger. 


AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 

Charlemagne,  king  of  France,  and  emperor  of  the  West, 
had  married  a  beautiful  Eastern  princess  by  the  name  of 
Frastrada,  for  whom  he  had  conceived  an  intense  passion. 
Thrice  before  had  Charlemagne  been  married,  and  he  little 
suspected  that  his  affections,  which  he  had  long  deemed 
extinct,  could  revive  with  such  fervor.  All  wondered  at 
his  devotion,  but  none  suspected  that  the  gold  ring  in- 
scribed with  cabalistic  signs,  which  Frastrada  continually 
wore,  was  the  magic  talisman  which  had  worked  such  a 
charm. 

The  new  queen,  however,  did  not  long  enjoy  her  power. 
A  dangerous  illness  overtook  her,  and  when  on  the  point  of 
death,  fearful  lest  the  ring  should  pass  into  the  hands  of 
another,  while  she  was  buried  out  of  sight  and  forgotten, 
she  slipped  the  magic  treasure  from  her  finger  into  her 
mouth  and  breathed  her  last. 


83 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


Solemn  preparations  were  made  to  inter  her  with  great 
pomp  in  the  cathedral  of  Mayence,  but  when  they  would 
fain  have  carried  her  thither,  the  emperor,  who  had  seemed 
quite  stupefied  with  grief,  flung  himself  on  his  knees 
beside  the  corpse,  clasped  it  in  his  arms,  and  passionately 
declared  that  he  could  not  bear  to  consign  it  to  the  dark 
and  lonely  tomb,  where  it  would  be  lost  to  his  sight  forever. 
In  vain  the  councilors  and  courtiers  argued  and  entreated; 
in  vain  Turpin,  the  prime  minister,  represented  that  the 
people  had  need  of  him  ;  the  emperor  refused  to  leave 
the  apartment  where  the  dead  queen  lay,  or  to  partake 
of  any  food.  Exhausted  at  last  by  his  lengthy  fast  and 
extravagant  grief,  Charlemagne  fell  asleep  at  his  post,  and 
Turpin,  who  had  been  watching  for  this  opportunity,  and 
who,  by  this  time,  felt  convinced  that  the  queen  possessed 
a  charmed  gem,  noiselessfy  stole  to  her  bedside. 

But,  although  he  carefully  examined  hands,  neck,  and  ears, 
no  such  jewel  was  to  be  seen.  He  was  about  to  give  up 
the  search,  when,  bending  over  the  corpse,  he  suddenly  per- 
ceived a  glimmer  of  gold  through  the  parted  lips  of  the 
dead  queen.  Trembling  lest  the  emperor  should  awaken 
before  he  had  accomplished  his  purpose,  Turpin  hastily 
extracted  the  ring  and  concealed  it  on  his  own  person. 

A  few  minutes  later  Charlemagne  awoke.  His  first  glance 
fell  upon  the  corpse,  from  which  he  turned  with  a  slight 
shudder  ;  his  second  upon  the  faithful  Turpin,  who  was 
anxiously  watching  him. 

"-  Turpin,  my  faithful  friend  !  "  he  suddenly  cried,  leaving 
his  seat  and  casting  himself  into  the  prime  minister's  arms. 
**  Your  presence  is  like  balm  to  my  wounded  heart!  You 
shall  remain  by  my  side  forever  !  '* 

This  first  outburst  over,  the  emperor  quietly  allowed  him- 
self to  be  led  from  the  mortuary  chamber,  pausing  at  the 
door  for  a  moment  to  give  orders  for  the  long  delayed 
burial.  Then,  accompanied  by  Turpin,  who  was  forced  to 
ride  constantly  by   his  side,   Charlemagne   saw  Frastrada's 


AJXLA.CHAPELLE. 


83 


remains   consigned  to  the  tomb  prepared  to  receive  them 
over  which  was   placed  the  Latin  inscription  which  is  still 
legible  in  spite  of  the  many  years  which  have  since  come 
and  gone. 

The  courtiers,  ever  watchful  and  inclined  to  jealousy 
soon  noticed  Turpin's  wonderful  influence  over  the  emperor 
and  knowing  naught  of  the  magic  ring,  were  at  a  loss  to 
account  for  ,t.  As  for  Turpin,  wearied  beyond  all  expres- 
sion by  Charlemagne's  constant  demands  upon  his  atten- 
tion, and  fearful  lest  the  ring  should  eventually  pass  into 
less  scrupulous  hands,  he  could  find  no  rest  either  night  or 
day,  and  vainly  sought  to  devise  some  safe  plan  to  rid  him- 
self of  the  troublesome  gem. 

One  night,  when  the  emperor  had  left  his  palace  at  Ingel- 
heim  and  was  camping  out  in  the  forest  on  his  way  to  the 
north,  Turpin  left  the  tent  where  his  master  lay  sound 
asleep,  and  wandered  out  into  the  moonlight  alone      It  was 

.ufTu"^^'  ''"''^  *''^  ""«  ''^''  '^^^e  '"to  his  possession, 
that  he  had  been  able  to  elude  Charlemagne's  watchfulness 
and  enjoy  a  moment's  solitude,  and  his  heart  swelled  with 

ix;!fM    u^  °^  '^"^^  ^'  ^^  P'""«^^  '"to  the  pathless  forest 
While  he  cogitated  how  he  could  best  dispose  of  the  magic 
nng,  Turpin  wandered  on  and  on,  until,  at  last,  he  found 
himself  at  the  opening  of  a  beautiful  glade.     The  moonlight 
flooded  this  retired  spot  and  shone  like  silver  over  the  deep 
and  quiet  pool,  which  lay  thus  embosomed  in  the  dark  woods 
Lost  in  admiration  at  the  tranquil    beauty  of  the    scene 
1  urpin  sat  down  on  a  stone  and  feasted  his  eyes  in  silence  ' 
But  soon  the  ever  present  idea  of  the  magic  ring  came 
to  disturb  his  contemplative  mood.     With  a  sigh  he  drew  it 
from  Its  hiding  place  in  his  breast,  and  for  the  first  time  he 
noticed,  by  the   pale  light  of  the  moon,   <hat  beside  some 
cabalistic  signs   the   ring  bore  the  image  of  a  tiny    swan 
Suddenly    the    thought    struck    him  that    the   opportunity 
so    long  and  vainly    sought   was    now  at  hand,    and    that 
the  deep  and  placid  waters    before   him  would  soon  close 


84 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 


85 


over  and  conceal  the  ring  forever.  A  moment  later, 
the  jewel  flashed  beneath  the  rays  of  the  moon,  a  slight 
splash  was  heard  in  the  night  air,  ever  widening  ripples 
broke  the  mirror-like  surface  of  the  pool,  and  a  snowy 
swan  appeared,  sailing  with  stately  calm  over  the    ruffled 

waters. 

Immensely  pleased  to  be  rid  of  this  care  Turpin  now 
retraced  his  steps  to  the  emperor's  tent.  There  he  soon  had 
the  satisfaction  of  perceiving  that  the  spell  was  broken, 
and  that  Charlemagne  had  returned  to  the  old  undemon- 
strative friendship  which  had  united  them  for  many  a  year, 
and  no  longer  paid  him  the  unwelcome  attentions  of  a  pas- 
sionate and  jealous  lover. 

The  emperor,  however,  betrayed  some  signs  of  restless- 
ness, and   when  the   sun   had    risen  bright   and  clear,    he 
suddenly  proposed   that   they   should    tarry   in    that    spot 
another  day,  and  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  hunt    in    the 
mighty  forest.     His  proposition  was  hailed  with  enthusiasm, 
and  soon  after  the  forest  echoes  were  all  rudely  awakened  by 
the  joyous  clangor  of  the  hunting  horns,  as  a  royal  stag  started 
from  the  covert,  closely  followed  by  huntsmen  and  hounds. 
In  vain  the  frightened  animal  exerted  its  utmost  speed,  the 
hounds  still   pursued,  until,  panting  and  exhausted,  he  was 
brought  to  bay  in  the  very  glade  which  Turpin  had  visited 
the  night  before.     Charlemagne,  who  had  been  foremost  in 
the  chase  all    morning,  and  who  alone  had  been  in  at  the 
death  of  the  stag,  now  checked  his  steed,  and  remained  mo- 
tionless in  his  saddle,  gazing  in  spellbound   admiration  at 
the  sunny  stretch  of  water  which  reflected  the  blue  sky,  and 
at  the  stately  swans  gliding  over  its  smooth  surface.      *' Ah! 
how  beautiful !  "  he  exclaimed.      **  I  would  fain  linger  here 

forever." 

Then  he  dismounted,  cast  himself  down  upon  the  smooth 
grass  by  the  edge  of  the  pool,  plunged  his  hands  into  the 
cool  tide,  and  quenched  his  ardent  thirst.  There  he  re- 
mained  in   dreamy   content   all   day  long,  summoning   his 


courtiers  thither  by  winding  his  horn.  When  the  shadows 
began  to  lengthen,  and  the  lurid  glow  of  the  setting  sun 
was  reflected  in  the  miniature  lake,  he  made  a  solemn  vow 
to  build  a  palace  near  this  spot,  that  he  might  revel  in  its 
beauty  and  never  be  forced  to  leave  it  again. 

The  vow  was  kept,  and  the  palace  became  the  nucleus  of 
Charlemagne's  capital  and  favorite  city  Aix-la-Chapelle. 
When  many  years  had  passed,  and  the  great  emperor  felt 
the  approach  of  death,  he  commanded  that  his  body  should 
be  laid  to  rest  in  the  cathedral  vault,  not  far  from  the  spot 
he  loved  so  well,  and  pronounced  an  awful  curse  upon  the 
sacrilegious  hand  which  should  attempt  to  open  his  tomb 
or  to  remove  his  remains. 

Strangers  visiting  Aix-la-Chapelle  are  cautioned  against 
Visiting  the  magic  pool  by  moonlight,  for,  at  the  mystic  hour 
When  Turpin  dropped  the  ring  into  its  placid  waters,  the 
spell  recovers  all  its  former  power,  and  the  traveler  who  has 
once  been  subjected  to  its  sway  may  wander  where  he  will; 
his  longing  heart  will  always  lead  his  reluctant  feet  back  to 
the  charmed  spot. 


Sbe  Catbe^^lI  Xegend. 

The  cathedral  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  with  its  delicate  yet 
lofty  spire,  had  been  duly  begun,  and  the  work  was  well 
under  way,  when  it  was  brought  to  a  sudden  standstill  from 
lack  of  funds  to  complete  it.  In  vain  all  the  councilors  of  the 
city  put  their  wise  heads  together,  they  could  not  find  any  way 
of  raising  money,  and  were  about  to  give  up  the  attempt  in 
despair,  when  a  Httle  old  man  suddenly  appeared  in  their 
midst,  proposing  to  give  them  a  barrel  of  gold  in  exchange 
for  the  soul  of  the  first  living  creature  which  entered  the 
cathedral  after  it  was  all  finished. 

At  first  the  magistrates  recoiled  horrified,  and  demurred, 
but  when  Satan,  for  it  was  he,  demonstrated  that  if  they  did 


ill 


86 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


not  accept  his  offer,  he  would  immediately  make  use  ot  the 
money  to  purchase  up  many  venal  souls,  they  decided  to 
take  the  gold  and  reveal  to  no  one  the  way  in  which  it  had 
been  procured.  Satan,  having  thus  obtained  their  solemn 
promise  to  deliver  up  to  his  tender  mercies  the  soul  of  the 
first  living  creature  which  entered  the  cathedral,  promptly 
supplied  all  the  necessary  funds.  The  work  progressed 
rapidly,  and  soon  the  people  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  began  to 
talk  of  the  dedication  of  their  cathedral. 

All  at  once,  however,  the  general  joy  was  turned  to  sorrow, 
and  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  city,  who  had  been  strangely 
anxious  to  penetrate  within  the  closed  doors,  now  loudly 
declared  they  would  never  set  foot  inside  the  sacred  build- 
ing. Seeking  the  reason  for  this  sudden  revulsion,  it 
was  soon  ascertained  that  one  of  the  councilors  had  con- 
fided the  secret  of  Satan's  interference  to  his  wife.  She  in 
her  turn  had  intrusted  it  to  the  keeping  of  a  friend,  whence 
it  had,  of  course,  spread  over  the  town  like  wild  fire,  filling 
all  hearts  with  nameless  dread. 

The  Pope  and  bishops,  finding  no  one  willing  to  enter  the 
cathedral,  and  not  wishing  to  risk  their  own  precious  souls, 
were  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed,  when  a  monk  suddenly  came 
into  their  presence  and  proposed  a  plan  which  was  hailed 
with  enthusiasm  by  every  member  of  the  clergy.  By  their 
order  the  preparations  for  the  dedication  were  speedily 
ended,  and  when  all  was  ready,  and  the  people  of  Aix-la- 
Chapelle  duly  assembled  in  front  of  the  cathedral,  a  huge 
box  was  brought  and  placed  close  beside  the  doors,  which 

were  set  ajar. 

Then  the  box-lid  was  cautiously  slipped  aside  and  a  cap- 
tive wolf,  springing  out  of  his  narrow  quarters,  rushed  into 
the  empty  edifice.  The  assembled  multitude  saw  the  monks 
shut  the  door,  heard  a  howl  of  rage,  and  saw  the  building 
shake  violently  from  foundation  to  spire.  While  they  were 
gazing  open-mouthed  at  this  miracle,  the  doors  burst  open 
and  the  devil  escaped,  snarling  with  anger  at  being  outwitted, 


ji 


AIX-LA-CHAPELLE    CATHEDRAL. 


AIX^LA-CHAPELLE, 


87 


and   banging  the  door  so  noisily  behind   him  that  it  was 
cracked   from   top   to   bottom. 

Satan  having  fled,  and  his  power  being  ended,  the  priests 
fearlessly  entered  the  cathedral,  thrust  out  the  dead  body 
of  the  wolf,  and  solemnly  proceeded  to  dedicate  the  beauti- 
ful building  to  the  service  of  God.  Since  then,  however, 
one  of  the  cathedral  doors  has  been  disfigured  by  an  un- 
seemly crack,  while  another,  of  more  recent  date,  bears  the 
effigy  of  a  wolf,  apparently  playing  with  a  pine-cone,  which 
the  mediaeval  artist  intended  as  a  symbol  of  his  soul. 

The  devil,  however,  did  not  forget  that  he  had  been  out- 
witted, and  patiently  bided  his  time,  hoping  he  would  find 
some  means  of  revenge.  After  several  years'  cogitation, 
he  resolved  to  pick  up  a  great  mound  of  earth  which  then 
stood  near  Leyden,  carry  it  to  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  drop  it 
on  the  city  at  nightfall,  thus  crushing  cathedral  and  inhab- 
itants at  once.  The  journey  was  long,  the  mound  heavy 
and  cumbersome,  and,  owing  to  the  dusk  and  the  size  of 
his  burden,  Satan  could  not  very  well  descry  the  position 
of  the  town.  He  therefore  asked  an  old  woman,  whom  he 
met  by  the  way,  to  point  out  its  exact  location. 

She  recognized  her  interlocutor  by  the  peculiar  smell  of 
brimstone  hovering  around  him,  told  him  he  had  gone  far 
out  of  his  way,  and  pointing  to  the  right,  where  she  declared  the 
city  lights  were  twinkling,  she  bade  him  walk  on  another  mile. 
Misled  by  these  directions,  the  devil  strode  on,  dropped 
his  burden  upon  what  he  supposed  was  the  city,  and  chuck- 
ling with  glee,  returned  home.  Imagine  his  chagrin,  there- 
fore, when  passing  near  there  one  day,  to  discover  that 
he  had  flung  the  mound  down  in  the  center  of  a  plain  near 
the  city,  where  it  now  forms  the  much  frequented  summer 
resort  known  as  the  Lousberg. 

Charlemagne,  it  is  said,  was  so  pleased  with  the  cathedral 
erected  in  his  favorite  city,  that  he  donated  three  thousand 
pounds  of  sterling  silver  for  the  manufacture  of  a  suitable 
bell.      The   work  was  intrusted  to  a  dishonest  founder,  who 


88 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, 


89 


appropriated  the  precious  metal  for  his  own  use  and  substi- 
tuted pewter. 

The  emperor,  wishing  to  be  the  first  to  ring  the  new  bell, 
pulled  the  rope  as  soon  as  it  was  hung,  but,  dismayed  at 
the  dull  clang  it  produced,  he  called  the  founder  and  bade 
him  ring  it.  Hoping  to  deceive  the  monarch,  the  dishonest 
artisan  tugged  so  lustily  at  the  rope  that  the  huge  clapper 
fell  down  upon  him,  and  killed  him  in  punishment  for  his 
dishonesty. 

Ever  since  then  the  bell,  whose  silvery  tones  had  been 
intended  to  summon  the  faithful  to  church,  has  been  rung 
for  fires  only,  and  whenever  its  discordant  clang  is  heard 
the  people  start  up  in  dismay,  for  they  know  some  great 
misfortune  has  occurred. 

Charlemagne,  at  his  own  request,  was  buried  beneath  the 
cupola  of  this  church,  where  his  body  rested  undisturbed 
until  the  Emperor  Otto  III.  ordered  the  opening  of  his 
predecessor's  tomb.  Charlemagne's  body  was  found  per- 
fectly preserved,  sitting  upright  on  an  ivory  throne,  with  all 
his  regal  emblems  around  him,  his  sword  Joyeuse  at  his 
side,  and  an  open  Bible  on  his  knee.  The  chair  upon  which 
he  sat  is  now  exhibited  in  the  cathedral,  for  the  emperor's 
body  was  placed  in  a  sarcophagus,  where  it  has  remained 
ever  since.  As  for  the  sword  and  regalia,  they  were  trans- 
ported to  Vienna,  where  they  figure  among  the  imperial 
crown  jewels. 


BfllnbarD  anD  jemma. 

Among  all  the  scholars  trained  in  Alcuin's  school  at  Aix- 
la-Chapelle,  none  was  more  apt  and  diligent  than  Eginhard, 
who  won  not  only  his  master's  praise  but  also  the  approval 
of  Charlemagne.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  his  education  was 
completed,  the  emperor  offered  him  a  position  at  court, 
where  he  became  his  private  secretary  and  knew  all  the 
secrets  of  state. 


Young  Eginhard,  honored  by  all  for  his  learning  and 
integrity,  soon  won  the  affections  of  Emma,  Charlemagne's 
daughter;  but,  fearful  of  the  emperor's  displeasure,  the 
lovers  met  only  in  public,  and  then  had  but  little  occasion  to 
exchange  tender  words  and  glances.  One  winter  night,  how- 
ever, overcome  with  longing  to  see  his  beloved,  Eginhard 
st(jle  softly  across  the  courtyard,  and  visited  her  in  her 
tower.  Forgetful  of  time  in  the  pleasures  of  unchecked 
conversation,  he  lingered  beside  her  until  dawn,  and  when 
he  would  fain  have  left  her,  shrank  back  appalled,  for  the 
ground  was  all  covered  with  newly  fallen  snow. 

Not  daring  to  cross  the  yard,  lest  his  footprints  should 
betray  his  carefully  guarded  secret,  and  compromise  his  lady- 
love, Eginhard  stood  hesitating  at  the  door,  until  Emma, 
with  ready  woman's  wit,  declared  she  would  carry  him 
over,  for  the  double  track  made  by  her  feet  would  occasion 
no  ill-natured  comments.  This  plan  was  immediately  carried 
out,  and  Charlemagne,  after  a  sleepless  night,  gazing  idly 
out  of  his  window,  saw  his  daughter  carrying  Eginhani 
across  the  yard. 

In  open  council,  that  selfsame  day,  the  emperor  re- 
counted what  he  had  seen,  and  asked  how  he  should  deal 
with  the  culprits;  but  when  his  advisers  recommended 
banishment  or  death  for  the  presumptuous  young  secretary, 
he  declared  that  in  his  eyes  all  mortals  were  equal  and  that 
he  deemed  it  wiser  to  bestow  upon  him  his  daughter's  hand. 
The  young  people  were  then  summoned,  and  amid  the 
general  silence  the  imperial  decision  was  made  known. 

Longfellow  has  given  us  an  admirable  poetic  version  of 
this  charming  legend,  which  he  concludes  thus: 

*'  And  the  good  emperor  rose  up  from  his  throne, 
And  taking  her  white  hand  within  his  own 
Placed  it  in  Eginhard's,  and  said  :  '  My  son. 
This  is  the  gift  thy  constant  zeal  hath  won  ; 
Thus  I  repay  the  royal  debt  I  owe, 
And  cover  up  the  footprints  in  the  snow.'  ** 

—  7 ales  of  a  Wayside  Inn, 


90 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


tTbe  J6mperor*0  S(m 

Charlemagne,  the  great  and  glorious  emperor  of  the 
West,  had  sinned  so  deeply  that  he  dared  not  even  confess 
his  wrong-doing  in  order  to  obtain  absolution  and  recover 
his  long  lost  peace  of  mind.  In  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to 
reveal  it,  his  lips  refused  to  speak,  and  that  transgression, 
buried  in  his  heart  and  branded  in  his  memory,  made  him 
feel  like  an  outcast  from  the  Church. 

Tortured  by  remorse,  he  finally  sought  the  presence  of 
St.  Egidius,  a  holy  man  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  penitently 
kneeling  before  him,  began  to  confess  all  his  sins.  The 
minor  transgressions  were  quickly  disposed  of,  and  soon 
nothing  remained  to  be  told  except  that  one  awful  sin 
whose  shadow  darkened  all  his  life.  Instead  of  words, 
however,  the  emperor  could  only  utter  heart-rending  groans, 
while  scalding  tears  coursed  down  his  pale  face. 

Touched  by  his  evident  remorse,  and  longing  to  help 
him  free  his  soul  from  its  burden  of  sin,  Egidius  finally 
gave  him  his  tablets,  bidding  him  write  the  confession  he 
had  not  strength  to  utter.  But  the  emperor  sadly  shook 
his  head,  pushed  the  tablets  aside,  and,  as  soon  as  he  could 
speak,  confessed  that,  much  as  he  would  like  to  do  so,  he 
could  not  obey,  as  he  had  never  learned  to  write. 

Egidius,  not  at  all  surprised, — for  in  those  days  only  a 
few  learned  men  knew  how  to  read  or  write, — then  offered 
to  teach  Charlemagne  the  art,  so  that  he  might  at  last  con- 
fess his  sin  and  obtain  forgiveness.  The  emperor  received 
this  proposal  with  joy,  and  patiently  learned  to  trace  his 
letters,  although  his  mighty  fist,  accustomed  to  swing  the 
battle-ax  and  brandish  the  mighty  sword  Joyeuse,  was  but 
little  fitted  for  such  work. 

The  mastery  of  the  art  of  writing  cost  him  far  more  exer- 
tion than  would  have  been  required  to  win  a  victory  over 
a  horde  of  fierce  barbarians,  and  great  beads  of  perspiration 


AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, 


91 


often  appeared  on  the  imperial  brow,  ere  he  succeeded  in 
learning  to  trace  the  words  which  would  reveal  his  great  sin 
While  Charlemagne,  weeping  and  groaning,  was  painfully 
tracmg  the  record  which  his  lips  refused  to  utter,  Egidius 
knelt  in  a  corner  of  the  cell  in  silent  prayer.  The  emperor 
having  finished  his  confession,  and  added  a  fervent  plea 
for  forgiveness,  dropped  his  stylus,  rose  from  his  seat  and 
humbly  laid  the  tablets  before  St.  Egidius,  who  stared  upon 
them  with  a  face  of  blank  astonishment.  He  had  seen 
Charlemagne  tracing  heavy,  unformed  characters,  yet  the 
surface  of  the  tablets  was  perfectly  smooth  and  no  trace  of 
writing  was  to  be  seen. 

While  he  was  thus  gazing  fixedly  upon  it,  a  few  words  in 
golden  letters  suddenly  appeared,  and  eagerly  looking  at 
them  he  saw:  *'God  forgives  all  who  truly  repent."  A  low 
exclamation  of  surprise  attracted  the  attention  of  Charle- 
magne, whose  head  was  bowed  in  deep  contrition,  and  look- 
ing up,  he  too  read  the  comforting  assurance  that  his  sin 
had  been  forgiven. 


OTe  Bmpercr'0  •RfOe. 

Ten  long  years  had  passed  since  the  emperor  had  ridden 
out  of  his  favorite  city,  at  the  head  of  his  army,  to  go  and 
fight  the  heathen,  and  now,  instead  of  the  welcome  tidings 
of  his    return,    dark    rumors   of   defeat   and   death    spread 
throughout  the  whole  country.     Convinced  of  the  truth  of 
these  reports,  the  lords  of  the  empire  assembled  to  discuss 
what  had  better  be  done,  and,  after  much  deliberation,  sent 
an  embassy  to  the  Empress  Hildegarde.     They  bade  her,  for 
her  subjects'  sake,  choose  another  husband  to  rule  the  nation 
wisely,  instead  of  Charlemagne,  who  would  never  be  seen 
again. 

Hildegarde,  at  first,  indignantly  refused  to  consider  this 
proposal,  but  finally,  seeing  the  justice  of  their  wishes,  she 
consented,  for  the  good  of  the  country,  to  marry  any  man 


90 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


AIX^LA-CHAPELLE, 


91 


Is- 


TTbc  iSmperor*0  Sin. 

Charlemagne,  the  great  and  glorious  emperor  of  the 
West,  had  sinned  so  deeply  that  he  dared  not  even  confess 
his  wrong-doing  in  order  to  obtain  absolution  and  recover 
his  long  lost  peace  of  mind.  In  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to 
reveal  it,  his  lips  refused  to  speak,  and  that  transgression, 
buried  in  his  heart  and  branded  in  his  memory,  made  him 
feel  like  an  outcast  from  the  Church. 

Tortured  by  remorse,  he  finally  sought  the  presence  of 
St.  Egidius,  a  holy  man  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  penitently 
kneeling  before  him,  began  to  confess  all  his  sins.  The 
minor  transgressions  were  quickly  disposed  of,  and  soon 
nothing  remained  to  be  told  except  that  one  awful  sin 
whose  shadow  darkened  all  his  Hfe.  Instead  of  words, 
however,  the  emperor  could  only  utter  heart-rending  groans, 
while  scalding  tears  coursed  down  his  pale  face. 

Touched  by  his  evident  remorse,  and  longing  to  help 
him  free  his  soul  from  its  burden  of  sin,  Egidius  finally 
gave  him  his  tablets,  bidding  him  write  the  confession  he 
had  not  strength  to  utter.  But  the  emperor  sadly  shook 
his  head,  pushed  the  tablets  aside,  and,  as  soon  as  he  could 
speak,  confessed  that,  much  as  he  would  like  to  do  so,  he 
could  not  obey,  as  he  had  never  learned  to  write. 

Egidius,  not  at  all  surprised,— for  in  those  days  only  a 
few  learned  men  knew  how  to  read  or  write,-~then  offered 
to  teach  Charlemagne  the  art,  so  that  he  might  at  last  con- 
fess his  sin  and  obtain  forgiveness.  The  emperor  received 
this  proposal  with  joy,  and  patiently  learned  to  trace  his 
letters,  although  his  mighty  fist,  accustomed  to  swing  the 
battle-ax  and  brandish  the  mighty  sword  Joyeuse,  was  but 
little  fitted  for  such  work. 

The  mastery  of  the  art  of  writing  cost  him  far  more  exer- 
tion than  would  have  been  required  to  win  a  victory  over 
a  horde  of  fierce  barbarians,  and  great  beads  of  perspiration 


often  appeared  on  the  imperial  brow,  ere  he  succeeded  in 
learning  to  trace  the  words  which  would  reveal  his  great  sin. 

While  Charlemagne,  weeping  and  groaning,  was  painfully 
tracing  the  record  which  his  lips  refused  to  utter,  Egidius 
knelt  in  a  corner  of  the  cell  in  silent  prayer.  The  emperor 
having  finished  his  confession,  and  added  a  fervent  plea 
for  forgiveness,  dropped  his  stylus,  rose  from  his  seat  and 
humbly  laid  the  tablets  before  St.  Egidius,  who  stared  upon 
them  with  a  face  of  blank  astonishment.  He  had  seen 
Charlemagne  tracing  heavy,  unformed  characters,  yet  the 
surface  of  the  tablets  was  perfectly  smooth  and  no  trace  of 
writing  was  to  be  seen. 

While  he  was  thus  gazing  fixedly  upon  it,  a  few  words  in 
golden  letters  suddenly  appeared,  and  eagerly  looking  at 
them  he  saw:  **God  forgives  all  who  truly  repent."  A  low 
exclamation  of  surprise  attracted  the  attention  of  Charle- 
magne, whose  head  was  bowed  in  deep  contrition,  and  look- 
ing up,  he  too  read  the  comforting  assurance  that  his  sin 
had  been  forgiven. 


Zbc  J6mpcror'0  "RiDe. 

Ten  long  years  had  passed  since  the  emperor  had  ridden 
out  of  his  favorite  city,  at  the  head  of  his  army,  to  go  and 
fight  the  heathen,  and  now,  instead  of  the  welcome  tidings 
of  his  return,  dark  rumors  of  defeat  and  death  spread 
throughout  the  whole  country.  Convinced  of  the  truth  of 
these  reports,  the  lords  of  the  empire  assembled  to  discuss 
what  had  better  be  done,  and,  after  much  deliberation,  sent 
an  embassy  to  the  Empress  Hildegarde.  They  bade  her,  for 
her  subjects*  sake,  choose  another  husband  to  rule  the  nation 
wisely,  instead  of  Charlemagne,  who  would  never  be  seen 
again. 

Hildegarde,  at  first,  indignantly  refused  to  consider  this 
proposal,  but  finally,  seeing  the  justice  of  their  wishes,  she 
consented,  for  the  good  of  the  country,  to  marry  any  man 


h    « 


92 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


AIX-LA-CIIAPELLE, 


93 


they  recommended;  stipulating,  however,  that  she  should  be 
allowed  to  spend  three  more  days  in  strict  solitude,  mourn- 
ing for  the  beloved  husband  whom  she  would  never  behold 
again. 

Well  pleased  with  this  answer,  the  lords  withdrew,  and 
began  making  preparations  for  the  coming  marriage,  while 
Hildegarde  wept  for  Charlemagne,  who,  by  the  way,  was 
not  at  all  dead,  but  very  busy  fighting  the  heathen,  whom 
he  had  almost  entirely  subdued. 

During  the  night,  while  poor  Hildegarde  wept,  an  angel 
of  the  Lord  suddenly  appeared  to  Charlemagne,  and  bade 
him  return  in  hot  haste  to  Aix-la-Chapelle,  if  he  would  not 
lose  both  wife  and  scepter  at  once.  Thus  warned,  the 
emperor  sprang  on  the  steed  which  the  heavenly  messenger 
had  brought,  and  sped  over  mountain  and  valley  with 
marvelous  rapidity,  arriving  at  Aix-la-Chapelle  just  as  the 
third  and  last  night  of  Hildegarde's  respite  was  drawing  to 

a  close. 

Instead  of  entering  his  palace,  however,  the  emperor  dis- 
mounted and  passed  into  the  silent  cathedral,  where  he 
seated  himself  in  his  great  golden  chair,  with  his  sword 
across  his  knees,  as  was  his  wont  when  dispensing  justice. 
There  he  waited  until  the  sacristan  came  to  prepare  the 
church  for  the  wedding,  which  was  to  take  place  soon  after 
sunrise. 

This  man,  startled  by  the  sight  of  the  imposing  figure 
seated  upon  the  imperial  throne,  and  thinking  it  an  appari- 
tion, staggered,  and  would  have  fallen,  had  he  not  steadied 
himself  by  the  rope  of  the  great  bell,  which,  thus  suddenly 
set  in  motion,  sent  peal  after  peal  through  the  awakening 
city. 

The  people  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  startled  by  the  untimely 
and  frantic  ringing,  rushed  out  of  their  houses  to  see  what 
had  occurred,  and  as  they  entered  the  church  they  uttered 
loud  cries  of  joy,  for  there  sat  Charlemagne  in  all  his 
wonted  state. 


These  cries  soon  reached  the  ears  of  the  unhappy  Hilde- 
garde, who,  still  dissolved  in  tears,  and  deeming  they  were 
intended  to  welcome  h€r  unknown  bridegroom,  shrank  back 
in  fear;  but  her  sorrow  was  changed  to  boundless  joy  when 
she  saw  her  beloved  husband  once  more,  and  heard  how 
Providence  had  miraculously  interfered  to  save  her  from  a 
hated  second  marriage.* 


•RolanO'a  jffrat  BDpcnture, 

Charlemagne  once  summoned  all  his  knights  before  him 
at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and  told  them  he  was  very  anxious  to 
secure  a  priceless  jewel  set  in  the  shield  of  a  robber  knight 
who  ranged  the  Ardennes.  He  bade  them  go  forth  separately 
and  try  to  secure  it,  promising  that  the  successful  knight 
should  have  any  reward  he  cared  to  claim. 

As  it  was  then  a  time  of  peace,  and  there  was  no  fighting 
on  hand,  the  knights  were  only  too  glad  to  sally  forth  in 
quest  of  the  robber  knight,  each  secretly  hoping  to  secure 
the  jewel  and  return  in  triumph  to  Aix-la-Chapelle  on  the 
appointed  day. 

Milon,  Charlemagne's  brother-in-law,  was  specially 
anxious  to  win  the  prize,  and,  accompanied  by  his  young 
son  Roland,  who  acted  as  his  page,  he  scoured  the  Ardennes 
forest  for  many  a  day.  All  his  search  proved  in  vain,  how- 
ever, and  weary  and  discouraged,  Milon  dismounted  from 
his  steed,  removed  his  armor,  and  lay  down  under  a  tree  to 
sleep,  bidding  Roland  keep  watch  beside  him. 

The  lad  obeyed,  but  soon,  seeing  his  father  asleep,  and 
longing  for  some  exciting  adventure,  he  donned  the  armor, 
sprang  on  the  war  horse,  and  rode  into  the  forest.  There 
he  encountered  the  robber  knight,  whom  he  recognized 
by  the  jewel  glittering  brightly  in  the  center  of  his  shield. 

Too  brave  to  retreat,  although  somewhat  dismayed  at  the 
prospect  of  an  encounter  with  an  antagonist  so  much  taller 
and  stronger  than  he,  Roland  laid  his  lance  at  rest,  charged 

*  See  Note  ii  in  Appendix. 


94 


LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE. 


gallantly,  and,  when  unhorsed,  continued  the  struggle,  afoot. 
An  inadvertent  movement  on  the  part  of  the  robber  knight 
finally  permitted  the  young  hero  to  deal  him  a  mortal  blow; 
and  after  cutting  off  his  hands  and  head,  wrenching  the 
jewel  from  the  shield  and  hiding  it  in  his  bosom,  Roland 
returned  to  the  place  where  his  father  was  still  sleeping 
soundly. 

Carefully  removing  all  traces  of  blood,  and  putting  the 
armor  back  as  he  had  found  it,  Roland  awaited  his  father's 
awakening.  Without  saying  a  word,  he  then  accompanied 
him  on  a  further  quest,  and  viewed  his  dismay  when  he 
found  the  lifeless  body  of  the  antagonist  he  had  so  long 
and  vainly  sought. 

On  the  appointed  day  all  the  knights  appeared  before 
Charlemagne  in  Aix-la-Chapelle,  each  accompanied  by  a 
page  bearing  the  head,  'hands,  or  some  part  of  the  armor  of 
the  robber  knight  of  the  Ardennes.  One  and  all  declared 
they  had  found  him  slain  in  the  forest,  where,  according  to 
the  traces,  a  terrible  encounter  must  have  taken  place. 

Last  of  all  came  Milon  with  dejected  mien.  He  was 
closely  followed  by  Roland,  however,  who  held  a  shield  in 
which  the  resplendent  jewel  was  set.  At  this  sight  all  the 
people  set  up  a  loud  shout  of  joy,  and  Charlemagne  bade 
Milon  step  forward  and  claim  his  reward.  Amazed  at  this 
reception,  the  knight  turned  to  gaze  in  the  direction  where 
all  their  glances  were  fixed,  and  seeing  the  jewel,  openly 
declared  that,  as  he  had  not  won  it,  he  deserved  neither 
reward  nor  praise.  Roland,  closely  questioned  by  his 
imperial  uncle,  now  revealed  how  he  had  obtained  the 
prize;  and  when  asked  to  name  his  reward,  said  he  would 
fain  be  admitted  among  the  number  of  knights  privileged  to 
accompany  Charlemagne  wherever  he  went,  and  to  fight 
always  by  his  side. 


A IX- LA  -  CHA  PELLE, 


95 


B  (Generous  Deed* 

Rudolph,  count  of  Hapsburg,  was  riding  alone  one  day, 
and  came  to  a  rushing  torrent  near  Aix-la-Chapelle.  He 
plunged  his  spurs  into  the  sides  of  his  mettlesome  steed,  and 
was  about  to  stem  the  raging  current,  when  he  suddenly 
became  aware  of  the  presence  of  a  feeble  old  priest,  who  was 
tucking  up  his  gown  to  ford  the  stream. 

The  count  paused  to  warn  him  of  the  danger,  but  the 
old  priest  calmly  continued  his  preparations,  declaring  that 
as  a  dying  man  had  sent  for  him  to  administer  extreme 
unction,  it  was  his  duty  to  risk  his  life,  even,  in  order  to  save 
a  soul. 

Touched  by  the  priest's  simple  faith,  and  the  strong  sense 
of  duty  which  urged  him  to  confront  any  peril,  the  count 
sprang  from  his  steed,  bade  the  old  man  mount,  and 
watched  him  until  he  had  safely  crossed  the  stream  and  was 
out  of  sight.  Then  Rudolph  returned  home  on  foot,  wonder- 
ing whether  he  would  have  the  courage  to  do  his  duty  as 
faithfully  as  that  feeble  old  man. 

Early  on  the  morrow,  the  priest  appeared  before  his  door, 
leading  the  steed,  which  he  brought  back  to  the  count  with 
many  thanks.  He  said  that  owing  to  its  fleetness  he  had 
reached  the  bedside  of  the  dying  man  in  time  to  induce  him 
to  ask  forgiveness  for  his  sins,  and  trust  in  the  mercy  of  the 
Lord.  Rudolph  of  Hapsburg  listened  attentively  to  the 
old  priest's  tale,  and  then  made  him  a  present  of  the  horse, 
vowing  that  it  should  ever  after  be  used  to  carry  the  priest 
and  his  brothers  on  their  constant  errands  of  mercy. 

Many  years  later,  when  this  count  of  Hapsburg  had  be- 
come emperor  of  Germany,  and  was  surrounded  by  the 
pomps  of  his  imperial  court,  a  wandering  minstrel  sang  the 
tale  of  this  kindly  deed,  and  the  people  cheered  enthusi- 
astically when  they  heard  that  it  was  their  beloved  emperor, 
who  had  given  his  favorite  steed  to  further  the  good  work 
of  the  priests  of  Aix-la-Chapelle. 


96 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


trbe  Golden  £000. 


LULSDORF. 


97 


Frederick,  emperor  of  Germany,  having  abdicated  in 
favor  of  his  son  Maximilian,  the  people  crowded  around  the 
new  ruler,  seeking  to  win  his  favor  by  the  gifts  which  they 
hastened  to  offer  him.  One  deputation  after  another  laid 
their  offerings  at  his  feet,  and  last  of  all  came  a  messenger 
from  the  Jews,  the  usurers  of  the  town,  bearing  a  basket  all 
filled  with  eggs  of  the  purest  gold. 

The  people  gazed  in  awe  at  the  gift,  which  was  of  fabulous 
value,  and  were  greatly  surprised  when,  instead  of  the 
gracious  thanks  they  fully  expected,  the  emperor  sternly 
bade  his  guard  seize  the  messenger,  lock  him  up  in  the 
dungeon,  and  capture  all  the  usurers  in  town. 

The  Jew  money-lenders,  falling  at  his  feet,  implored  his 
mercy,  wringing  their  hands,  inquiring  how  they  could  have 
incurred  the  royal  displeasure,  and  offering  great  sums  for 
their  release.  But  Maximilian  paid  no  heed  to  their  prayers 
and  ironically  said,  as  he  bade  the  guards  lead  them  away: 

**  The  hens  which  lay  such  desirable  eggs  should  be  kept 
in  a  place  of  safety." 

LULSDORF. 


i»     >    '  i. 


Ccuel  Sister. 


Close  by  the  village  of  Lulsdorf,  near  the  right  bank  of 
the  Rhine,  is  the  ruined  tower  of  an  old  castle,  built  in  the 
fifth  or  sixth  century,  which  was  once  inhabited  by  a  knight 
and  his  two  daughters.  These  maidens  were  of  very  dif- 
ferent characters  and  dispositions,  for  one  was  gentle  and 
lovely,  while  the  other  was  hard  and  vindictive. 

The  gentle  maiden  was  engaged  to  be  married,  and  on 
the  eve  of  her  wedding  strolled  by  the  riverside,  where  she 
was  joined  by  her  elder  sister,  who,  unknown  to  anyone,  had 
fallen  deeply  in    love  with    the    prospective    bridegroom. 


While  pretending  a  friendliness  she  was  far  from  feeling,  the 
jealous  sister  lured  the  morrow's  bride  out  of  sight  of  the 
castle,  and  bade  her  stretch  out  her  hand  and  pluck  a  beau- 
tiful water  lily  growing  almost  out  of  reach.  Then,  as  the 
gentle  girl  leaned  far  over  the  water,  she  suddenly  and 
treacherously  pushed  her  in.  The  struggling  maiden  tried 
to  scramble  ashore  again,  and  piteously  implored  her  jealous 
sister  to  help  her,  promising  all  she  could  think  of  as  a 
bribe  to  induce  her  to  lend  a  rescuing  hand,  but  all  in  vain. 
When  she  had  sunk  for  the  third  and  last  time  beneath  the 
deep  waters,  the  wicked  sister  crept  home  in  the  gathering 
darkness,  entered  the  bride's  room,  locked  herself  in,  and 
issued  forth  on  the  morrow  only,  decked  in  bridal  array 
and  closely  veiled. 

As  the  sisters  were  of  the  same  height  and  figure,  and  as 
their  voices  were  exactly  alike,  no  one  suspected  the  fraud. 
The  marriage  ceremony  took  place,  and  when  it  was  ended, 
the  newly  married  couple  returned  to  the  castle,  where  they 
were  entertained  during  the  nuptial  feast  by  the  songs  of 
many  minstrels  who  had  hastened  thither  at  the  report  of  a 
wedding. 

One  of  these  minstrels,  the  last  to  arrive,  pausing  by  the 
river  to  mend  a  broken  harp-string,  had  found  in  the  sedges 
the  corpse  of  the  beautiful  bride,  which  had  been  washed  up 
by  the  tide.  By  virtue  of  his  art,  for  tradition  reports  he 
was  a  magician  as  well  as  a  musician,  he  fashioned  a  harp 
out  of  the  maiden's  body,  using  the  strands  of  her  golden 
hair  for  strings. 

•*  The  body  which  lay  outstretched  on  the  sands, 
Became  a  beautiful  harp  in  his  hands, 
For  he  took  the  maiden's  snow-white  breast 
And  he  made  it  a  j^lace  for  the  chords  to  rest 
And  on  her  small  fingers  so  fair  to  see 
He  fixed  the  strings  as  well  might  be ; 
Which  out  of  the  locks  of  her  golden  hair. 
He  twined  with  a  skill  so  wondrous  rare.** 

— Snoiues  translation  of  German  poem 


98 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE, 


With  this  marvelous  instrument  he  now  appeared  bfefore 
the  wedding  guests,  and  letting  his  fingers  wander  over  its 
strings,  produced  a  melody  so  plaintive  and  soul-stirring 
that  the  veiled  bride  suddenly  burst  into  tears.  The  bride- 
groom, pushing  the  veil  aside  to  wipe  them  away  and  com- 
fort her,  suddenly  discovered  the  fraud,  and  wildly  in- 
quired  what   it   meant. 

But  the  harper  continued  his  strain,  unmoved  by  all  the 
commotion  around  him,  until  the  pleading  tones  became 
so  urgent  that  the  murderess,  goaded  to  madness  by  their 
importunity,  confessed  her  crime  ere  she  sank  to  the  floor 
in  violent  convulsions  from  which  she  died. 


ZULPICH. 

ZuLPiCH,  as  the  ancient  Tolbiac  is  now  called,  is  the  site 
of  Clovis'  famous  battle  against  the  invading  Teutons.  It 
was  here  he  uttered  the  solemn  vow  that  if  the  God  of  his 
Christian  wife  Clothilde  would  only  grant  him  the  victory, 
he  would  be  baptized,  and  would  serve  him  only  all  the  rest 
of  his  life. 

The  victory  remained  with  the  Francs,  and  Clovis,  mind- 
ful of  his  vow,  was  duly  baptized  in  the  cathedral  at  Rheims, 
where  the  archbishop,  St.  Remi,  solemnly  bade  him  bend 
the  knee  before  the  Lord  of  heaven,  and  henceforth  burn 
what  he  had  worshiped,  and  worship  what  he  had  been 
wont  to  destroy. 


lUftelberg. 

Ube  Cbaritable  (3irL 

A  LEGEND  relates  that  this  eminence  received  its  name 
from  Ltifthilde,  a  charming  and  charitable  girl  who  did  much 
good  to  the  poor.  She  employed  all  her  spare  moments 
in  spinning  fine  thread  which  she  sold  at  a   high  price,  and 


VOW   OF   CLOVIS. 


Blanc. 


98 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


With  this  marvelous  instrument  he  now  appeared  before 
the  wedding  guests,  and  letting  his  fingers  wander  over  its 
strings,  produced  a  melody  so  plaintive  and  soul-stirring 
that  the  veiled  bride  suddenly  burst  into  tears.  The  bride- 
groom, pushing  the  veil  aside  to  wipe  them  away  and  com- 
fort her,  suddenly  discovered  the  fraud,  and  wildly  in- 
quired  what   it    meant. 

But  the  harper  continued  his  strain,  unmoved  by  all  the 
commotion  around  him,  until  the  pleading  tones  became 
so  urgent  that  the  murderess,  goaded  to  madness  by  their 
importunity,  confessed  her  crime  ere  she  sank  to  the  floor 
in  violent  convulsions  from  which  she  died. 


ZULPICH. 

r 

ZuLPiCH,  as  the  ancient  Tolbiac  is  now  called,  is  the  site 
of  Clovis'  famous  battle  against  the  invading  Teutons.  It 
was  here  he  uttered  the  solemn  vow  that  if  the  God  of  his 
Christian  wife  Clothilde  would  only  grant  him  the  victory, 
he  would  be  baptized,  and  would  serve  him  only  all  the  rest 
of  his  life. 

The  victory  remained  with  the  Francs,  and  Clovis,  mind- 
ful of  his  vow,  was  duly  baptized  in  the  cathedral  at  Rheims, 
where  the  archbishop,  St.  Remi,  solemnly  bade  him  bend 
the  knee  before  the  Lord  of  heaven,  and  henceforth  burn 
what  he  had  worshiped,  and  worship  what  he  had  been 
wont  to  destroy. 


LUFTELBERG. 
tTbc  Cbai'it.ibfc  (3frL 

A  LEGEND  relates  that  this  eminence  received  its  name 
from  Liifthilde,  a  charming  and  charitable  girl  who  did  much 
good  to  the  poor.  She  employed  all  her  spare  moments 
in  spinning  fine  thread  which  she  sold  at  a   high  price,  and 


VOW   OF   CLOVIS. 


Blanc. 


VILLICH, 


99 


devoted  all  the  money  which  she  thus  earned  to  buy  reme- 
dies for  the  sick,  who  considered  her  far  more  skillful  than 
any  leech. 

Charlemagne,  out  hunting  one  day,  had  the  misfortune  to 
wound  himself  sorely,  and  would  have  bled  to  death,  had  not 
this  deft-handed  maiden  been  summoned.  By  her  timely 
assistance  she  saved  his  life.  Full  of  gratitude  for  her 
services,  the  emperor  bade  her  mount  his  horse,  promising 
to  give  her  as  much  land  as  she  could  ride  around  ere  sun- 
down. Liifthilde,  nothing  daunted,  urged  the  emperor's 
steed  to  its  utmost  speed,  and  rode  all  around  the  forest 
now  known  as  the  Luftelberg. 

To  prove  that  she  had  really  been  all  around  it,  she 
dropped  her  spindle,  and  kept  twisting  her  thread,  which  was 
found  to  describe  the  exact  boundary  of  the  land  which  the 
emperor  gave  her  in  fee.  This  she  appropriated  for  the 
use  of  the  poor,  founding  an  order  of  nuns,  who  employed 
all  their  time  in  caring  for  the  sick. 


VILLICH. 

Z\sz  3Boi  on  tbe  Bar, 

In  the  tenth  century  Adelheid  was  abbess  of  the  nunnery 
at  Villich,  and  by  her  energy  kept  all  her  nuns  in  very  good 
order  and  hard  at  work.  A  broken-hearted  young  lady 
once  asked  permission  to  enter  her  convent,  saying  that 
her  betrothed  had  perished  in  battle  in  a  distant  land,  and 
that,  as  she  was  now  entirely  alone,  she  would  fain  retire 
from  the  world. 

She  was  therefore  admitted,  took  her  vows,  and  as  she 
was  the  possessor  of  a  beautiful  voice,  was  soon  appointed 
leader  of  the  convent  choir.  One  day,  while  she  was  singing 
in  her  stall,  her  glance  fell  down  upon  the  congregation, 
and  there,  among  the  people,  she  suddenly  beheld  her  lover, 


lOO 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


who  had  not  been  slain,  but  only  sorely  wounded.  Hen  sur- 
prise was  so  great  that  she  paused  abruptly  in  her  pious 
strain,  and  a  loud,  discordant  cry  broke  from  her  trembling 
lips. 

The  abbess,  who  was  a  quick-witted  woman,  and  equal 
to  any  emergency,  immediately  perceived  the  cause  of  the 
nun's  confusion.  To  bring  her  promptly  back  to  a  realiz- 
ing sense  of  time  and  place,  she  raised  her  hand  and  dealt 
her  a  sound  box  on  the  ear. 

Startled  into  propriety  by  this  stinging  blow,  the  nun 
went  on  with  the  service,  singing  as  truly  as  before,  and 
tradition  recounts  that  never  again  did  she  dare  to  raise  her 
eyes  during  the  service,  or  sing  a  note  out  of  tune,  for  fear 
of  feeling  the  abbess'  heavy  hand. 

*•  And  lo  !  a  ifiiracle  !  the  maid 
Casts  down  her  shameful  eyes  : 
Then  raised  her  song  in  sweet  accord, 
To  all  the  nuns'  surprise. 

— Adelheid  von  Slotterfoth, 

BONN. 

^be  lt)ebmdedcbt 

In  the  crypt  of  the  cathedral  of  Bonn,  which  is  said  to 
have  been  founded  by  Constantine,  were  once  held  those 
famous  midnight  meetings  of  the  German  secret  society 
called  Vehmgericht,  which,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  took  the 
law  into  its  own  hands,  and  executed  summary  justice,  acting 
as  powerfully  and  independently  as  the  Inquisition  in  Spain. 

The  Lord  of  Freyerwahl,  a  lawless  robber  knight,  had 
long  committed  every  sort  of  crime  with  impunity,  and 
everyone  had  learned  to  fear  and  detest  him.  One  day, 
while  riding  through  a  village,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
lovely  young  girl,  the  niece  of  the  priest,  whom  he  kid- 
naped that  selfsame  night,  after  setting  fire  to  the  parson- 


BONN. 


lOI 


k 


'  age  to  prevent  immediate  pursuit  The  poor  village  priest 
lost  all  he  had  in  the  flames,  but  his  deepest  sorrow  was 
caused  by  the  total  disappearance  of  his  orphaned  niece,  of 
whom  he  could  obtain  no  tidings.  One  year  after  this 
calamity,  which  he  had  never  ceased  to  mourn,  the  priest  was 
summoned  by  an  emissary  of  the  Vehm,  and  led  into  the 
crypt  of  the  Bonn  cathedral  at  midnight.  While  waiting  for 
further  developments,  he  took  note  of  the  silent  masked 
figures,  the  sable-hung  walls,  open  grave,  ax,  block,  rope, 
and  roll  of  parchment,  which  he  knew  were  the  emblems  of 
the  secret  society. 

All  at  once,  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  entrance  of  a 
prisoner,  who  was  accused  of  kidnaping  a  young  lady  and 
condemned  to  marry  her.  The  knight  of  Freyerwahl,  for  it 
was  he,  angrily  refused  to  do  so,  but,  in  spite  of  all  his 
struggles,  the  girl  was  brought  in,  and,  at  an  imperious  sign 
from  the  judge,  the  priest  performed  the  marriage  ceremony. 

As  soon  as  the  service  was  ended,  and  while  the  priest 
was  rejoicing  to  see  his  niece  once  more,  the  judge  went  on 
to  declare  that  the  slight  reparation  just  made  to  the  poor 
girl's  honor  in  no  way  balanced  the  crimes  committed  by 
the  accused,  who  was  then  and  there  sentenced  to  death  and 
executed.  The  guilty  lord  of  Freyerwahl's  remains  were 
duly  interred  in  the  cathedral,  but  the  only  inscription 
placed  above  them  was  his  name,  with  the  words:  **Died 
by  order  of  the  Vehm,  1250." 


Zhc  Zhxcc  Sleeperd, 

Bonn,  the  birthplace  of  Beethoven,  is  noted  for  the 
extreme  laziness  of  its  inhabitants,  who  love  to  indulge  in 
their  propensity  for  prolonged  sleep.  Three  young  men  of 
this  town  were  said  to  be  specially  affected  with  somno- 
lence. They  considered  it  an  unendurable  hardship  to  be 
forced  to  wake  up  and  rise  some  time  during  the  day,  and 


I02 


LEGENDS   OF    THE   RHINE, 


resolved  to  withdraw  to  a  cave  outside  the  city,  where  they 
settled  themselves  comfortably  for  a  long  nap. 

Day  after  day  passed  by  and  they  slept  peacefully  on  ; 
but  at  the  end  of  seven  years  one  of  them  slowly  opened 
his  eyes,  and  sleepily  muttered,  **  Do  you  hear  that  ox  bel- 
low?"    Then  he  sank  back  again  in  sound  sleep. 

Seven  years  later,  the  second  youth  half  opened  his  eyes 
and  hesitatingly  answered,  **It  is  not  an  ox,  but  a  cow!" 
ere  he  too  relapsed  into  oblivion.  The  silence  of  the  cave 
was  again  unbroken,  save  by  the  sleepers'  long-drawn  breath, 
until  another  seven  years  had  passed,  when  the  third  youth 
dreamily  inquired,  *' What  ox  ?  What  cow?  Can't  you  let 
a  fellow  sleep  in  peace?"  and  turned  over  to  resume  his 
slumbers. 

The  three  Bonn  sleepers  are  still  said  to  occupy  the  same 
cave,  one  of  them  waking  for  a  moment  every  seven  years. 
In  turn  they  volunteer  a  few  words,  forming  a  conversation 
as  thrillingly  interesting  as  the  one  recorded  above,  which 
proves  how  very  witty  lazy  young  men  are  apt  to  become. 


BONN. 


T03 


tffee  Derfl 


;4i  Si.,.'' 


x\^c  TBnfn^• 


His  Satanic  Majesty,  on  his  usual  rounds  one  wintry 
morning,  entered  the  cave  of  the  Wind.  Many  were  the 
pranks  which  these  two  mischief-makers  had  enjoyed 
together.  On  this  occasion  the  Evil  One  seemed  unusually 
talkative  and  restless.  After  a  few  moments'  stay,  he  sud- 
denly rose  from  his  chair  and  addressed  the  Wind,  who, 
according  to  his  customary  tactics,  had  incessantly  bustled 
about  the  cave,  upsetting  everything  in  his  eager  haste 
to  welcome  his  distinguished  visitor  from  the  Lower  Regions. 

**  My  dear  Wind,"  Satan  exclaimed,  **it  is  a  beautiful 
frosty  day.  Leave  this  dark  cave  and  come  out  for  a  little 
walk  with  me." 

The  Wind,  at  this  proposal,  gave  an  ecstatic  twirl  on  the 


tips  of  his  toes,  flew  across  the  cave,  and  stormily  embraced 
his  guest,  crying: 

**A  splendid  idea,  my  dear  friend,  and  quite  worthy  of 
your  superior  genius.  I  have  been  pining  for  exercise,  and 
was  just  wishing  for  an  excuse  to  leave  this  narrow  cell." 

*'Very  well,"  replied  the  Devil,  laughing  at  his  friend's 
impetuous   embrace.      *'Come  along,  then." 

Arm  in  arm,  the  two  cronies  left  the  cave  and  sallied  out 
into  the  quiet  and  peaceful  world.  A  heavy  frost  lay  like  a 
white  mist  over  the  frozen  ground,  and  the  trees,  shrubs, 
and  grasses  along  the  roadside  were  all  covered  with  myriads 
of  icy  pendants,  which  gHttered  in  the  early  beams  of  the 
sun  and  reflected  all  the  brilliant  hues  of  the  rainbow. 

**  Ha  !  ha!  "  chuckled  the  Wind  in  Satan's  ear.  ''  My  dear 
Devil,  do  look  at  those  silly  trees,  shrubs,  and  grasses,  all 
decked  out  in  their  finest  jewels  !  Just  see  how  proudly 
they  display  their  glittering  apparel  before  an  admiring 
world.  Foolish  things  !  They  little  suspected  I  would  be 
out  to-day.  What  say  you,  my  friend,  shall  1  trouble  their 
joy  a  little  and  upset  their  silly  complacency  ?  " 

The  Devil,  that  notorious  killer  of  all  innocent  pleasure, 
gladly  hailed  the  proposal. 

''  Now,  just  watch  me!  "  exclaimed  the  Wind,  and  he  drew 
in  such  a.  great,  long  breath  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  must 
burst. 

The  trees,  shrubs,  and  grasses  suddenly  forgot  their 
harmless  pride,  and  the  Sun,  who  had  seen  the  Devil  and 
the  Wind  putting  their  heads  together,  and  foresaw  that 
some  evil  would  result  from  this  ominous  consultation,  drew 
down  the  corners  of  his  great  smiling  mouth,  and  quickly 
placed  a  thick  misty  veil  before  his  eyes,  to  shut  out  the 
sight  which  he  knew,  only  too  well,  would  next  greet  him. 

*'Ah,  Wind,  cruel  Wind,"  he  sighed;  ^*why  not  let  the 
earth  rejoice  in  her  jewels  ?  Why  seek  to  destroy  what  is 
already  so  perishable  ?  " 

The  diamond-incrusted  vegetation,  missing  the  glad  sun- 


104 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


BONN, 


loi 


light,  and  dreading  the  enemy's  power,  now  began  to  shiver 
softly  with  nameless  apprehension.  A  moment  later 'the 
Wind,  tearing  his  arm  out  of  his  friend's,  rushed  forward 
with  fury,  shook  plants  and  trees  until  they  writhed  and 
twisted  in  his  relentless  grasp,  and  all  their  bright  pendants 
lay  shattered  in  a  thousand  minute  fragments  on  the  ground. 

*'Ha!  ha!  ha!"  then  laughed  the  Devil  and  Wind  in 
chorus. 

'*Well  done!  Friend  Wind,"  added  Satan,  as  his  com- 
panion, having  dashed  all  the  bright  jewels  to  the  earth, 
and  ruthlessly  broken  and  twisted  many  tender  limbs,  now 
joined  him  again.  **  I  congratulate  you  upon  your  swift 
executive  powers.  Really,  my  dear  fellow,  I  nearly  died 
laughing  when  I  saw  those  trees  writhe  in  your  grasp. 
And  the  groans  they  uttered  when  you  wrenched  the 
diamond  crowns  from  their  heads  and  dashed  them  to 
pieces  on  the  frozen  ground!  It  was  too  funny  for  words. 
Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Arm  in  arm,  once  more,  and  still  laughing  heartily  in 
chorus,  Satan  and  the  Wind  continued  their  walk.  The 
Sun,  peeping  out  timidly  from  behind  the  misty  folds  of  his 
veil,  gladly  saw  them  depart,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  quite 
out  of  sight,  he  brushed  it  entirely  aside  and  smiled  down 
encouragingly  upon  the  shivering  trees  gazing  so  mourn- 
fully upon  their  ruined  finery. 

"Courage!  courage!"  he  smiled.  **The  fiends  are 
gone.  Courage  my  friends,  courage.  You  have  my 
warmest  sympathy." 

And  he  shone  down  upon  them  so  brightly  and  steadily 
that  the  trees,  softened  by  his  kind  words  and  looks, 
slowly  dropped  great  reluctant  tears,  which  sparkled  quite 
as  brilliantly  as  their  glorious  jewels.  These  warm  tears 
fell  down  upon  the  frozen  ground  and  broken  pendants, 
which  soon  melted  at  their  contact,  and  finally  disappeared, 
leaving  no  trace  whatever  of  their  once  beautiful  presence. 

In  the   meanwhile,  Satan   and  his   companion   had  jour- 


neyed on,  losing  no  opportunity,  however  slight,  of  doing 
some  damage  or  of  playing  some  scurvy  trick.  Nothing 
and  no  one  seemed  safe  from  their  pranks.  The  W^ind  impu- 
dently kissed  the  maidens'  cheeks  until  they  fairly  glowed 
with  indignation,  and  slyly  pinched  the  little  children's 
fingers  and  toes  until  they  began  to  cry.  A  moment  later, 
he  stole  treacherously  behind  a  poor  old  woman,  turned  her 
tattered  shawl  up  over  her  head,  and  twisted  her  garments 
so  tightly  about  her  that  she  could  scarcely  move  a  step. 
Then,  laughing  and  whistling,  he  snatched  the  hat  right  off 
a  venerable  alderman's  head,  and  tossed  it  far  away.  But, 
when  the  old  gentleman,  puffing  and  blowing  with  his 
unwonted  exertions,  would  fain  have  laid  his  pudgy  fingers 
upon  his  truant  headgear,  the  Wind  snatched  it  away  again, 
forcing  the  poor  old  alderman  to  continue  his  aggravating 
pursuit.  Weary  at  last  of  this  sport,  the  Wind  joined  his 
companion,  who  had  watched  the  alderman's  frantic  efforts 
with  intense  amusement,  and  had  fairly  held  his  sides 
with  laughter,  and  they  both  resumed  their  journey,  which 
finally  brought  them  into  the  city  of  Bonn.  The  Devil, 
shrewdly  glancing  right  and  left,  took  note  of  all  he  saw 
along  the  way,  and  a  well-pleased,  sardonic  grin  passed  over 
his  expressive  features  whenever  he  saw  quarreling  or 
strife. 

The  two  companions  came  at  last  to  a  place  where  the 
street  grew  broad  and  wide,  the  present  Market  Place,  on 
one  side  of  which  stood  a  great  building  used  in  those  days 
as  a  Jesuit  monastery. 

**  My  dear  Wind,"  suddenly  exclaimed  Satan,  stopping 
short  before  the  heavy  oaken  door,  **  would  you  mind 
waiting  for  me  here  a  few  minutes  while  I  run  in  and  see 
how  my  dear  friends,  the  Jesuits,  are  getting  on  ?  " 

**  Not  at  all!"  exclaimed  the  Wind,  who  was  not  sorry  to 
rest  a  little  after  all  his  exertions. 

At  Satan's  touch  the  oaken  door  flew  open  wide,  and  a 
moment  later  the  Wind  found  himself  alone  and  began  to 


io6 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


walk  slowly  up  and  down  the  street,  whistling  softly  to  him- 
self. Satan,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  begun  his  round  of 
inspection  within.  He  listened  at  key-holes,  peeped  over 
the  brothers*  shoulders,  glanced  through  their  books  and 
papers,  softly  whispered  a  word  in  this  ear  and  a  sentence 
in  that,  while  the  smile  on  his  ugly  face  deepened  and 
broadened,  for  he  was  only  too  well  pleased  with  all  he 
heard  and  saw. 

*'Ha!  ha!  "he  chuckled  softly  to  himself.  "These  fine 
fellows  are  after  my  own  heart,  and  are  so  busy  dispatching 
my  business  that  really  I  cannot  tear  myself  away  from 
them.  I  must  stay  here  and  watch  them  carry  out  these 
little  plans  of  theirs.  But  to  avoid  awakening  any  sus- 
picions, I'll  assume  the  Jesuit  robe  and  cowl,  and  will  even 
adopt  their  motto,  *The  end  justifies  the  me^ns.'  Ha!  ha! 
ha  !  " 

The  Wind,  awaiting  his  friend's  return,  grew  impatient. 
His  step  grew  quicker,  his  whistle  shriller,  and  as  it  was 
very  cold  he  began  to  blow  on  his  own  fingers  to  keep  them 
warm.  Several  hours  passed,  and  still  no  sign  of  the 
Devil's  return. 

**He  must  have  forgotten  that  I  am  waiting  out  here  in 
the  cold,"  exclaimed  the  Wind,  and  stepping  to  the  heavy 
oaken  door,  he  applied  his  lips  to  the  key-hole,  and  uttered 
a  long  shrill  whistle,  which  roused  all  the  echoes  in  the  old 
building,  caused  the  Jesuits  to  draw  their  cowls  closer 
around  their  ears  and  thrust  their  hands  farther  up  their 
wide  sleeves,  while  the  Devil  laughed  maliciously  to  himself 
as  he  pictured  his  friend's  impatience. 

"There,  that  will  surely  fetch  him  !"  cried  the  Wind  com- 
placently, drawing  himself  up  and  resuming  his  interrupted 
walk,  but  minute  after  minute  passed  and  still  the  door 
remained  closed.  To  while  away  the  time,  the  Wind  spas- 
modically tried  a  few  of  his  former  pranks  upon  the  passers- 
by,  but  as  no  one  was  there  to  laugh  at  his  sallies,  they 
no  longer  afforded  him  so  much  pleasure.     Repeatedly  he 


KREUZBERG, 


107 


whistled  at  the  oaken  door,  shook  it  until  the  boards 
creaked  and  groaned,  and  the  Jesuits  within  crossed  them- 
selves in  sudden  terror.  The  Wind,  in  his  impatience,  then 
changed  his  whistle  into  a  prolonged  howl,  which  grew 
louder  and  louder,  until  the  good  people  of  Bonn  fairly 
shuddered.  But  finally,  exhausted  by  these  frantic  efforts, 
he  ceased  howling,  and  breathed  forth  long,  plaintive  sighs, 
which  rose  and  fell  as  he  trudged  backward  and  forward 
awaiting  the  Devil's  return. 

Years  ago  the  Jesuits  forsook  the  ancient  convent,  but 
the  Wind,  waiting  at  the  door,  failed  to  recognize  his  old 
friend  in  his  new  garb,  and  remained  at  his  post.  There  he 
still  paces,  back  and  forth,  sometimes  angry,  sometimes 
reproachful,  sometimes  playful.  But  go  when  you  will, 
night  or  day,  summer  or  winter,  you  will  be  sure  to  find 
him  waiting  for  his  old  ally,  in  front  of  the  old  Jesuit  con- 
vent, on  the  Market  Place  in  Bonn. 


KREUZBURG. 

B  Strange  JStrd. 

Long  before  the  Kreuzberg  had  become  a  holy  spot,  and 
was  studded  with  the  crosses  to  which  it  now  owes  its  name, 
the  site  of  the  convent  was  occupied  by  a  cunning  fowler. 
He  snared  birds  of  all  kinds,  which  he  knew  by  name  and 
whose  habits  he  could  accurately  describe. 

This  fowler  was  so  passionately  fond  of  ornithology  that 
he  was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  could  discover  a  new 
specimen,  and  so  proud  of  his  learning  that  he  openly 
declared  he  could  name  any  winged  creature  on  earth,  and 
challenged  the  devil  to  do  as  much. 

Satan,  who  had  long  been  watching  to  secure  the  fowler's 
soul,  seeing  an  opportunity  to  reach  his  ends,  now  promised 
to  supply  him  v/ith  all  the  birds  he  wanted,  in  exchange  for 
the  possession  of  his  soul  at  death.     He  bargained,  however. 


io8 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


GODESBERG. 


that  he  would  relinquish  all  claim  to  it,  if  the  fowler  ever 
brought  him  a  bird  he  could  not  name. 

At  first  the  fowler,  finding  his  snares  always  full  of  game, 
was  delighted  with  his  bargain,  but  little  by  little  the  haunt- 
ing fear  that  the  devil  would  claim  his  soul  troubled  him  so 
sorely  that  he  wondered,  night  and  day,  how  he  might  outwit 
the  fiend.  After  many  days  of  deep  thought,  he  finally 
decided  to  take  one  of  his  own  little  grandchildren,  smear 
him  with  tar,  roll  him  in  loose  feathers  of  every  kind  and 
hue,  and  then  present  him  to  the  devil,  bidding  him  class 
the  bird  and  tell  its  name. 

This  plan,  cleverly  carried  out,  greatly  puzzled  the  devil, 
who,  after  vainly  scratching  his  head  with  his  clawlike 
fingers,  and  impatiently  curling  and  uncurling  his  long  tail, 
was  finally  compelled  to  declare  he  was  unable  to  class  the 
strange  specimen  before  him,  and  must  therefore  relinquish 
all  claims  upon  the  fowler's  soul, 

Thus  delivered  from  an  awful  fate,  the  fowler  revealed 
the  deception  he  had  used,  and  when  the  devil  took  leave  of 
him  in  a  very  indignant  mood,  the  happy  man  solemnly 
swore  that  he  would  never  again  attempt  to  deal  with  the 
Evil  Spirit. 


109 


On  the  highway  leading  from  Bonn  to  the  castle  of  Godes- 
berg  is  a  tall  cross,  erected  by  one  of  the  knights  of  Drachen- 
fels.  This  nobleman  had  left  his  wife  to  take  part  in  the 
Crusades,  and  after  more  than  twenty  years'  absence  returned 
home  to  find  that  she  had  married  one  of  his  rivals  shortly 
after  his  departure. 

Burning  to  avenge  this  insult,  the  knight  would  fain  have 
challenged  his  supplanter,  but  he  was  dead;  his  wife  was  in 
a  nunnery,  and  their  sole  heir  was  a  youth  of  seventeen,  who 
little  suspected  the  crime  his  parents  had  committed. 


Riding  along  the  highway  one  day,  the  Lord  of  Drachen- 
fels  met  a  youth,  whom,  by  his  likeness  to  his  faithless  wife, 
he  immediately  recognized  as  her  son.  Carried  away  by 
passion,  he  immediately  attacked  and  slew  him;  but  when 
the  youth  lay  dead  before  him,  he  suddenly  realized  what  he 
had  done,  and  fled  in  remorse. 

A  passing  peasant  found  the  corpse  and  went  to  the  con- 
vent, where  the  unhappy  mother,  learning  her  loss,  sank 
back  unconscious  and  died  twenty-four  hours  later. 

**  There  was  a  nun  in  Villich  fair, 
Who  had  lived  a  life  of  sorrow  ; 
They  brought  her  a  lock  of  that  stripling's  hair. 
And  she  died  upon  the  morrow." 

— Planchi. 

As  for  the  murderer,  continually  haunted  by  his  young 
victim's  face,  he  wandered  restlessly  from  place  to  place. 
Then,  after  erecting  a  memorial  cross,  known  as  the  Hoch 
Kreuz,  on  the  very  spot  where  the  youth  fell,  he  withdrew 
into  a  monastery,  where  he  spent  the  remainder  of  his  life 
in  doing  penance  for  his  sin. 


**  This  cross  was  built  on  this  fatal  spot ; 
More  of  the  tale  man  knoweth  not." 


"Planch/, 


GODESBERG. 
tSbt  l^eeetted  WXtc. 

On  the  hill  near  Bonn,  where  the  ruins  of  the  castle  of 
Godesberg  are  now  to  be  seen,  the  Romans  once  erected 
a  temple  to  Jupiter,  which,  however,  was  changed  into  a 
Christian  church  as  soon  as  the  people  were  converted. 
This  sacred  edifice  having  fallen  into  ruins,  the  emperor 
Julian  built  a  fortress  on  its  site  ;  which,  in  due  time,  made 


I 


no 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


way  for  the  present  building,  of  which  nothing  but 'pictur- 
esque ruins  now  remain. 

Godesberg  castle  cam  i  by  inheritance  to  Gebhard,  arch- 
bishop of  Cologne,  who,  notwithstanding  his  clerical  vows, 
fell  deeply  in  love  with  a  fair  maiden.  As  the  Reformers 
were  very  busy  in  those  days,  and  in  contradiction  to  the 
Catholics,  permitted  their  priests  to  marry,  Gebhard,  who 
was  no  bigoted  Catholic,  gladly  allowed  himself  to  be  con- 
verted to  the  new  faith. 

The  Catholic  party,  resenting  his  defection  and  denounc- 
ing his  first  action,  which  was  to  marry  his  lady-love, 
deprived  him  of  his  clerical  power  and  emoluments,  which 
he  had  forfeited  by  his  marriage.  It  also  declared  open  war 
against  him,  hoping  to  wrest  from  his  grasp  the  extensive 
property  which  he  had  inherited,  and  to  which  it  had  no  just 
claim.  Forced  to  defend  himself,  Gebhard  now  fought 
bravely,  but,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  he  soon  found  himself 
deprived  of  all  his  property,  except  the  castle  of  Godesberg, 
where  he  retreated  with  his  dearly  won  bride.  Even  there, 
however,  he  was  not  long  allowed  to  enjoy  her  company 
in  peace,  and  seeing  himself  obliged  to  go  forth  again, 
and  do  battle  against  his  opponents,  he  confided  her  to  the 
care  of  the  last  scion  of  the  Neuenahr  family.  Gebhard  was 
defeated  and  forced  to  flee,  his  castle  surrounded,  and  after 
a  long  siege  it  was  captured  by  the  Catholics,  who,  enraged 
at  the  obstinate  resistance  made  by  the  inmates,  then 
reduced  it  to  its  present  ruined  condition. 

The  deserted  bride,  separated  forever  from  her  husband, 
withdrew  into  a  sisterhood  of  which  she  was  made  canoness, 
to  spend  the  remainder  of  her  life  in  utter  seclusion. 


o 
o 
o 
m 

O 

o 
> 

H 
r 


RAMERSDORF, 


III 


RAMERSDORF. 


Ebe  Bancera  CurgcD. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  little  hamlet  of  Ramersdorf  had 
been  wont  to  assemble  every  Sunday  afternoon  on  the  vil- 
lage green,  where  the  young  people  danced  merrily.  But 
when  the  year  one  thousand  came,  all  hearts  were  oppressed 
by  a  nameless  fear  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  near  at 
hand.  These  gay  doings  all  ceased,  and  the  abbot  of 
Lowenberg  gladly  saw  his  church  crowded  from  morning  till 
night  with  humble  suppliants  for  divine  mercy. 

The  much  dreaded  year  came  and  passed.  The  sun  con- 
tinued to  rise  and  set,  and  seeing  no  signs  of  coming  dis- 
solution, a  reaction  set  in,  and  the  young  people  gayly 
prepared  to  resume  their  former  Sunday  afternoon  pastime. 
Scarcely  had  the  music  begun,  however,  when  the  abbot 
appeared  among  them,  and  peremptorily  bade  them  cease. 
But  when  lads  and  lasses  laughingly  disregarded  his  orders, 
he  turned  upon  them  and  solemnly  cursed  them,  saying  he 
hoped  Heaven  would  compel  them  to  dance  without  ceasing 
for  a  whole  year  and  a  day. 

Frightened  by  this  curse,  the  young  people  would  now 
fain  have  paused  in  their  merry  round,  but  to  their  dismay 
they  found  they  had  no  more  control  over  their  feet.  So 
they  whirled  around  faster  and  faster,  hour  after  hour,  day 
and  night,  until  the  fatal  year  was  ended,  and  the  extra  day 
came  to  a  close.  The  dancers  then  fell  in  a  senseless  heap 
in  the  middle  of  the  hollow  worn  by  their  untiring  feet;  but, 
although  they  were  eventually  restored  to  consciousness 
they  remained  helpless  idiots  as  long  as  they  lived. 

Needless  to  say,  since  this  awful  punishment,  the  young 
people  of  Ramersdorf  have  ceased  dancing  on  Sunday  on 
the  village  green,  and  there  is  no  place  in  Germany  whert 
the  Sabbath  quiet  is  more  strictly  observed. 


i 


112  LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 

HEISTERBACH. 

^be  JBird  of  patadiae* 

In  the  monastery  at  Heisterbach,  where  many  holy  men 
spent  their  lives  in  meditation  and  prayer,  there  once  lived 
a  monk  by  the  name  of  Alfus.  He  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
cloister  early  in  life,  and  had  diligently  studied  and  prayed, 
until  a  great  light  had  dawned  upon  his  soul,  and  he  had 
amassed  a  store  of  knowledge  which  made  him  famous  for 
many  a  mile  around. 

But,  in  spite  of  all  his  learning,  his  mind  remained  so 
pure  and  simple  that  he  thought  he  knew  nothing  at  all,  and 
his  faith  was  like  that  of  a  little  child.  Such  was  his  usual 
condition  of  innocent  trust;  yet,  being  human,  he  too  had 
seasons  of  temptation,  when  torturing  doubt  would  assail 
and  rankle  within  his  soul. 

In  the  course  of  a  long  life  he  had  frequently  noticed 
that  familiarity  lessens  enjoyment,  that  the  eye  wearies  at 
last  of  the  most  beautiful  sight,  the  ear  of  the  sweetest 
sound,  that  the  most  intoxicating  perfumes  finally  pall  upon 
the  senses,  and  that  the  mind  grows  weary  of  even  the  most 
elevated  train  of  thoughts. 

**  Will  it  be  thus  in  heaven?"  he  anxiously  questioned, 
in  one  of  these  dark  seasons  of  doubt.  *'  Will  not  the 
beauty  of  the  heavenly  mansions  cease  to  please  our  eyes, 
and  the  grand  tones  of  the  celestial  harmony  lose  all  charm 
for  our  ears  ?  Will  not  the  joys  of  heaven  itself  grow  dim 
in  the  course  of  eternity  ?" 

Although  Alfus  faithfully  struggled  against  these  insid- 
ious doubts,  and  strove  to  regain  his  simple  faith,  he  was 
continually  haunted  by  fear  and  unable  to  taste  a  moment's 
peace.  Hoping  to  divert  his  thoughts  by  a  long  walk,  he 
left  the  monastery  very  early  one  morning.  The  sun  had 
risen  bright  and  clear,  the  pure  white  clouds  floated  dreamily 
across    the   azure   sky,    casting   faint   fitful    shadows    over 


HEISTERBACH, 


1  1  \ 


mountain  and  river,  the  dew  glistened  on  the  nodding 
blades  of  grass  and  radiant  flowers,  and  the  birds  rapturously 
trilled  their  morning  carol  as  he  pensively  walked  down  the 
hill  and  entered  the  dense  forest. 

The  whole  earth  seemed  to  breathe  forth  peace  and  joy, 
but  Alfus*  heart  was  not  at  rest,  and  these  serene  sights 
and  sounds  only  added  poignancy  to  his  grief. 

'*  Ah!  "  he  sighed,  **  with  what  rapture  I  first  gazed  upon 
this  scene!  What  emotions  and  holy  thoughts  were 
awakened  by  the  first  glimpse  of  this  matchless  river ! 
What  lofty  purposes  were  kindled  in  my  heart  at  the  sight 
of  these  grand  hills!  But  now,  alas!  all  is  changed.  The 
rapture  I  once  experienced  I  no  longer  feel.  The  grandeur 
which  almost  oppressed  me  has  lost  its  power,  and  I  fre- 
quently pass  along  without  vouchsafing  even  a  glance  to 
this  magnificent  view." 

While  musing  thus,  Alfus  wandered  through  the  forest, 
paying  no  attention  to  the  road  he  was  following.  A  slight 
feeling  of  fatigue  made  him  pause  at  last,  and  glance  about 
him;  but  although  he  was  quite  familiar  with  every  inch  of 
ground  about  the  monastery  for  many  a  mile  around,  he 
could  not  remember  ever  having  seen  this  spot  before. 
All  around  him  tall  trees  of  an  unknown  species  gently 
rustled  their  leafy  branches.  At  his  feet  delicate  ferns  and 
wild  flowers  dipped  under  the  weight  of  some  gorgeous 
butterfly  or  busy  bee,  and  while  he  stood  there,  forgetful  of 
fatigue  in  his  breathless  admiration,  a  bird,  perched  on  a 
neighboring  tree,  suddenly  began  to  sing.  This  unearthly 
song  was  so  sweet,  so  thrilling,  so  low,  so  distinct,  so  utterly 
unlike  any  music  he  had  heard  before  that  Brother  Alfus 
sank  down  on  a  mossy  stone  and  listened  to  it  with  intense 
rapture.  The  song  lasted  but  a  second,  then  abruptly 
ceased,  leaving  the  monk  sick  with  longing  to  hear  it  once 
more.  But  the  bird  had  vanished,  no  sound  now  broke  the 
forest  silence,  so  he  reluctantly  rose  to  wend  his  way  back 
through  the  woods  to  the  old  monastery. 


I 


■!   1 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHmE. 


'I 


It  was  very  strange,  however.  His  step,  elastic  and  full 
of  vigor  as  he  strode  down  the  hill  that  very  morn,  was  now 
hesitating  and  slow,  his  beard  was  strangely  gray,  and  all 
his  body  seemed  feeble  and  stiff.  The  scene,  too,  seemed 
changed,  and  where  he  had  scrambled  through  underbrush, 
he  now  saw  tall  trees  of  at  least  a  century's  growth. 

Slowly  and  painfully,  Alfus  trudged  on,  and  as  soon  as  he 
reached  the  edge  of  the  forest,  he  eagerly  looked  up  to  the 
monastery.  But  behold!  that  too  was  changed.  The  build- 
ings seemed  larger,  the  entrance  gate  wider,  and  the  walls 
looked  old  and  weather-beaten. 

What  could  have  happened?  How  could  such  changes 
have  taken  place  during  an  absence,  which,  at  the  utmost, 
had  only  lasted  a  few  hours  ?  Alfus  passed  his  hand  over 
his  eyes  as  if  to  clear  his  sight,  and  anxiously  resumed  his 
walk.  Some  women  were'washing  at  the  village  fountain, 
and  he,  who  knew  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  for  miles 
around,  wonderingly  gazed  into  faces  which  he  had  never 

seen. 

**Look!"  cried  one  of  them,  nudging  her  companion. 
*'That  old  monk  wears  the  dress  of  the  order,  yet  I  do  not 
remember  ever  having  seen  him  before.     Who  can  he  be  ?" 

Alfus  paid  no  heed  to  this  remark,  nor  paused  to  question 
the  women,  but  hastened  on  as  fast  as  his  trembling  limbs 
would  allow  him,  and  timidly  rang  the  monastery  bell.  In 
spite  of  his  trouble,  he  noticed  it  no  longer  gave  forth  the 
silvery  peal  he  knew  so  well,  and  when  a  young  monk,  a 
stranger,  opened  the  door,  he  gazed  upon  him  aghast,  and 
exclaimed  in  tremulous  tones: 

^HVhy!  where  is  Brother  Anthony?  Why  does  he  not 
open  the  door  as  usual  ?" 

**  Brother  Anthony!  "  exclaimed  the  monk.  ''  We  have 
no  Anthony  here.  I  am  the  porter,  and  for  the  past  five 
years  no  one  else  has  opened  the  door." 

For  a  moment  poor  Alfus  stood  on  the  threshold  as  if 
petrified,  but  at  the  sight  of  two  cowled  figures,  slowly  pac- 


HEISTERBACH. 


115 


ing  along  the  cloister  wall,  he  rushed  forward,  calling  them 
by  the  familiar  names  of  his  fellow-monks,  whom  he  fancied 
he  recognized.  But  no  one  answered  his  cry,  and  when  he 
peered  eagerly  beneath  their  cowls  he  realized  his  mistake 
and  despairingly  cried: 

**  Brethren,  I  entreat  you,  speak,  and  tell  what  has 
happened  !  I  left  the  monastery,  as  usual,  this  morning 
only,  for  a  little  stroll  in  the  woods,  and  come  back  to  find 
all  changed.  Where  is  the  abbot  ?  Where  are  my  com- 
panions ?     Is  there  no  one  here  who  remembers  Alfus  ?  " 

^* Alfus— Alfus,'*  thoughtfully  repeated  an  aged  monk, 
who  sat  in  the  warm  sunshine.  ''Alfus,  yes;  there  was 
once  a  brother  of  that  name  in  this  monastery,  but  that  was 
long  ago.  I  remember,  when  but  a  lad,  hearing  the  old 
monks  tell  how  he  wandered  out  one  summer  morning,  and 
vanished  in  the  forest,  whence  he  never  returned.  Although 
they  sought  carefully  for  him  for  many  a  day,  no  trace  of 
him  was  ever  found,  and  the  abbot  said  that  God  must  have 
borne  him  up  to  heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire,  like  Elijah,  for 
he  was  very  holy  indeed.  But  all  this  happened  a  hun- 
dred years  ago." 

At  these  last  words  a  sudden  light  seemed  to  illumine  the 
face  of  poor  Alfus,  who  slowly  sank  down  upon  his  knees, 
clasped  his  tremulous  hands,  and  exclaimed  : 

'^  Now  I  understand  it  all,  oh,  gracious  Lord!  Truly  a 
thousand  years  are  but  as  a  day  in  thy  sight.  A  whole 
century  passed  while  I  held  my  breath  to  listen  to  the  song 
of  the  bird  which  sings  at  the  gate  of  Paradise.  Forgive 
my  unbelief,  O  Lord;  grant  that  I  may  enter  into  thy  rest, 
and  do  not  refuse  to  receive  my  penitent  soul." 

Brother  Alfus  then  stretched  out  his  trembling  hands,  a 
radiant  smile  illuminated  his  pale  face,  and  when  the 
wondering  monks,  crowding  around  him,  would  fain  have 
helped  him  rise,  they  found  his  soul  had  flown  away  to  join 
his  companions  in  the  heavenly  mansions,  and  there  enjoy 
an  eternity  of  unchanging  bliss.* 

*  See  Note  12  in  Appendix. 


ii6 


4 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


*'lF  you  will  only  give  me  that  stone,  good  friar,"  ex- 
claimed  a  knight,  as  he  struck  his  gauntleted  hand  against 
a  stone  in  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  church  at  Heisterbach 
on  the  Rhine;  -if  you  will  only  give  me  that  stone,  you 
shall  have  a  purseful  of  gold  in  exchange/' 

-Give  you  that  stone,  sir  knight!  What  value  can  it 
possibly  have  in  your  eyes  ?  "  exclaimed  the  poor  old  friar, 
gazing  at  the  knight  in  open-mouthed  astonishment. 

**Alas  good  friar!  a  demon  of  sleeplessness  and  unrest 
haunts  my  pillow  wherever  I  go.  Here  only  I  find  repose, 
here  only  it  dares  not  persecute  me.  When  the  opening 
service  is  ended,  and  I  lean  my  head  back  against  this 
stone  as  a  preparatory  fnove  toward  directing  all  my  at- 
tention  to  your  sermon,  my  eyelids  droop  gently  over 
my  eyes,  and  my  weary  limbs  relax  in  profound  sleep. 
Some  magic  p^wer  must  be  concealed  in  this  hard  stone, 
good  friar.     I  beseech  you,  therefore,  grant  my  prayer. 

The  simple-minded  friar,  who  fancied  the  knight  was  in 
earnest,  gravely  pondered  the  matter  a  while.  Then  he 
excused  himself  and  went  to  consult  the  abbot,  his  superior, 
who  listened  to  the  whole  story  with  a  humorous  twinkle  in 

his  eye  and  finally  said  : 

-Brother,  go  and  tell  the  noble  knight  that  our  church 
pillars  cannot  be  molested,  but  that,  since  he  has  derived  so 
much  comfort  from  it,  he  had  better  take  advantage  of  the 
stone's  narcotic  powers  as  often  as  possible,  for  the  service 
which  precedes  the  sermon  may,  in  time,  do^  good  to  his 
soul  and  prepare  him  to  enjoy  everlasting  rest." 


HEISTERBACH. 


tlbe  Xa0t  Bbbot. 


1 1 


The  once  magnificent  abbey  of  Heisterbach  is  now  noth- 
ing but  a  picturesque  ruin,  said  to  be  haunted  by  the 
unquiet  spirit  of  the  last  abbot.  Long  years  ago,  his  com- 
panions folded  their  weary  hands  over  their  silent  hearts 
and  sank  to  rest.  The  summer  winds  have  long  whispered 
through  the  waving  grasses  which  grow  over  their  graves, 
and  the  winter  snows  have  silently  spread  their  white  pall 
over  all,  but  still  the  aged  abbot  can  find  no  peace. 

Night  after  night,  when  the  cool  evening  breezes  blow 
over  the  Seven  Mountains  and  ripple  the  waters  of  the 
Rhine,  when  the  silvery  moon-beams  gently  steal  along  the 
ruined  walls,  the  abbot  appears,  and  slowly  wanders  in  and 
out  among  the  tombs.  His  hair  is  white,  the  light  has 
long  died  out  of  his  sightless  eyes,  and  as  he  noiselessly 
moves  along,  he  counts  with  his  staff  the  grassy  mounds 
beneath  which  his  departed  brethren  have  lain  for  many  a 
year. 

This  task  finished,  he  heaves  a  mournful  sigh,  and  sadly 
whispers  that  the  number  is  not  yet  complete.  One  grave 
is  lacking  still,  but  the  aged  abbot  is  doomed  to  haunt  the 
place  until  the  last  crumbling  wall  has  fallen  into  dust,  and 
the  great  stones  have  all  dropped  asunder.  When  no  trace 
of  the  ancient  abbey  remains,  when  tradition  alone  will 
remind  the  traveler  of  its  former  existence,  the  abbot's 
watch  will  be  over,  and  he  too  will  sink  into  his  grave  and 
be  at  rest. 

A  poetical  version  of  this  legend  is  as  follows. 

"  Sadly  through  yon  graveyard  creeps 
The  abbot  old  and  hoar, 
His  long  beard  in  the  night  wind  sweeps  ; 
His  heart  knows  joy  no  more. 

"  No  more  he  hears — no  more  he  sees  ; 
A  long  staff  guides  his  way. 


ii8 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 

What  seeks  he  there  ?  why  braves  the  breeze  ? 
♦  He  counts  the  graves,'  they  say. 

**  And  ever  as  he  counts,  it  seems. 
As  still  were  wanting  one. 
He  shakes  his  hoary  head,  and  deems 
Next  day  his  race  is  run. 

**  Not  yet  is  made  that  couch,  his  own 
Warm  tears  his  wan  cheeks  lave  ; 
When  yon  firm  fabric's  overthrown 
He'll  only  find  his  grave." 

— C  Rheinhold, 


NONNEN-STROMBERG. 
trbe  f)erm(t  Sisters. 

Back  of  the  little  town  of  Konigswinter  on  the  Rhine 
rise  the  seven  hills  known  as  the  Siebengebirge,  from  whence 
beautiful  views  can  be  had  of  the  Rhine  and  the  surrounding 
country.  The  charm  of  the  mountains  is  further  enhanced 
by  a  halo  of  legend  and  romance  which  makes  them  particu- 
larly attractive  to  lovers  of  tales  of  olden  times.  One  of 
these  tales  is  as  follows  : 

The  lord  of  Argenfels  had  two  beautiful  daughters, 
Bertha  and  Mina,  with  whom  he  spent  all  his  time,  for  he 
was  already  well  advanced  in  years,  and  could  no  longer 
take  any  part  in  the  military  plans  then  afoot.  All  the 
country  was  in  a  great  state  of  excitement  at  this  time,  for 
St.  Bernard,  the  eloquent  preacher,  had  been  urging  a 
Crusade  at  Spires,  and  his  enthusiasm  had  decided  many 
knights  to  join  the  emperor,  Frederick  Barbarossa,  in  the 
attempt  to  deliver  the  Holy  Sepulcher  from  the  hands  of 

the  Saracens. 

The  knight  of  Argenfels,  debarred  by  age  from  taking  an 
active  part  in  the  expedition,  nevertheless  gave  his  money 
lavishly  to   further  the    cause,   and  warmly  welcomed   the 


NONNEN.  S  TR  0  MB  ERG. 


119 


knights  continually  passing  his  gates  on  their  way  to  the 
general  tryst  at  Frankfort-on-the-Main.  One  evening,  he 
gave  shelter  to  a  handsome  and  brave  young  lord  who  dwelt 
on  the  Wolkenberg,  one  of  the  Seven  Mountains.  He  no 
sooner  saw  the  lovely  Bertha  than  he  entirely  lost  his  heart 
to  her.  As  he  had  but  little  time  to  spare,  and  must  leave 
on  the  morrow,  the  knight  made  such  good  use  of  his  time, 
that  when  he  rode  away,  it  was  as  the  betrothed  of  the  fair 
maiden,  who  was  to  marry  him  as  soon  as  he  returned  from 
the  Holy  Land. 

The  Crusade  begun  so  hopefully  proved  very  disastrous 
indeed.  Many  brave  knights  died  in  distant  lands,  and  the 
Lord  of  Wolkenburg,  among  others,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Saracens  and  was  detained  in  prison  for  seven  long 
years.  You  can  imagine  how  the  ardent  lover  pined,  and 
how  solemnly  he  finally  registered  a  vow  to  dedicate  a  chapel 
to  St.  Peter,  if  he  would  but  deliver  him  from  captivity  and 
allow  him  to  join  his  betrothed  once  more. 

At  last  his  prayers  were  answered,  and  as  soon  as  he  was 
released  he  hastened  back  to  his  native  land.  From  afar  he 
eagerly  looked  for  the  first  glimpse  of  the  lordly  towers  of 
Argenfels,  and  perceived  with  a  sharp  pang  that  they  were 
a  mass  of  blackened  ruins.  Springing  out  of  the  boat  at  the 
landing  he  hurried  up  the  hill,  and  learned  from  an  old 
shepherd  that  the  castle  had  been  besieged  and  taken  by  a 
robber  knight,  that  the  old  lord  of  Argenfels  had  fallen  in 
the  fray,  and  that  his  lovely  daughters  must  have  perished 
also,  as  they  had  never  since  been  seen. 

The  broken-hearted  Lord  of  Wolkenburg  then  sadly  with- 
drew to  his  lonely  castle  in  the  Seven  Mountains,  but,  find- 
ing his  sorrow  unbearable,  he  resolved  to  consecrate  the 
remainder  of  his  life  to  God,  and  retire  to  some  remote 
spot  where  he  might  erect  a  hermitage.  He  penetrated  far 
into  the  woods  in  search  of  a  suitable  place,  and  came  at 
last  to  a  little  hut,  where,  to  his  intense  surprise  and  delight, 
he  found  his  beloved  Bertha  and  her  sister. 


ItO 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


After  the  first  exchange  of  loving  greetings  had  taken 
place,  and  the  first  rapture  of  meeting  was  over,  the  maiden 
told  him  how  she  and  her  sister  had  escaped  from  the 
besieged  castle  of  Argenfels  by  an  underground  passage. 
They  had  taken  refuge  here,  in  the  dense  forest,  to  escape 
from  the  pursuit  of  their  enemy,  who  had  made  war  against 
them  to  get  Bertha  into  his  power. 

Needless  to  say,  the  knight  of  Wolkenburg  did  not  turn 
hermit,  but  married  his  lady-love,  and  built  the  chapel 
dedicated  to  St  Peter  which  crowns  the  Nonnen-Stromberg, 
one  of  the  Seven  Mountains,  where  Mina  founded  the  con- 
vent in  which  she  permanently  took  up  her  abode. 


On  the  xXonnen-Stromberg  lived  a  cruel  and  unprin- 
cipled knight,  who,  having  lost  all  his  sons,  dragged  his 
only  daughter  out  of  the  convent  of  Villich,  where  she  had 
already  taken  a  nun's  vows,  and  told  her  she  would  be 
forced  to  marry  so  that  his  race  should  not  become  entirely 

extinct. 

In  vain  the  poor  young  nun  wept  and  protested;  her 
father  declared  she  would  be  forced  to  obey,  and  to  pre- 
vent her  escape  he  kept  her  a  close  prisoner,  while  he 
looked  around  him   for  a  suitable  husband. 

A  knight  of  the  neighborhood,  fully  as  wicked  as  he, 
finally  suggested  that  his  son  should  be  the  bridegroom,  and 
in  spite  of  the  young  man's  resistance,  commanded  him  to 
be  ready  on  a  certain  day,  taking  measures  to  secure 
obedience  by  force,  should  such  a  course  become  necessary. 
The  youth,  who  had  lost  a  beloved  betrothed,  and  had 
secretly  taken  vows  in  the  monastery  of  Heisterbach,  was 
dragged  to  the  altar  in  robe  and  cowl,  where  he  was  joined  by 
a  tearful  nun.  Both  stood  motionless  and  irresponsive, 
while  a  priest,  bribed  for  the   purpose,  read  the  marriage 


OEHLBERG,  i    i 

service  and  gave  them  the  nuptial  benediction,  lie  had 
scarcely  uttered  the  last  words,  when  the  young  couple,  fall- 
ing on  their  knees,  fervently  exclaimed:  *'  In  God  alone  we 
put  our  trust  !  "  With  a  terrible  crash  the  ground  opened 
under  them,  and  received  their  bodies,  while  their  pure  souls 
were  seen  by  all  the  witnesses  soaring  gladly  up  into  the 
open  heavens,  where  hosts  of  angels  met  them  with  psalms 
of  joy. 

The  dishonest  priest,  terrified  at  this  vision,  rushed  out 
of  the  chapel  and  down  the  mountain,  which  ever  since  then 
has  been  known  as  the  Nonnen-Stromberg,  and  his  lifeless 
body  was  found  in  a  ravine  on  the  morrow.  As  for  the 
cruel  fathers  they  lived  unhappily,  died  miserably,  and  their 
souls,  we  are  told,  were  claimed  by  Satan,  whose  faithful  fol- 
lowers they  had  long  been. 


OEHLBERG. 

;rbc  ci;buiiOerbolt» 

Balther  von  Bassenich,  having  quarreled  with  the 
bishop  of  Cologne  and  put  him  to  death,  the  emperor,  indig- 
nant at  the  outrage,  besieged  and  took  his  castle,  which 
was  immediately  set  afire.  As  the  emperor's  entrance  had 
been  effected  at  night,  and  in  silence,  Balther  little  sus- 
pected anything  wrong,  and  was  greatly  surprised  when  his 
only  daughter  Liba  roused  him  from  sleep,  imploring  him 
to  fly. 

In  the  dense  smoke  which  already  filled  the  castle,  father 
and  daughter  made  their  way  to  a  secret  passage,  along 
which  they  traveled  all  night,  ere  they  came  to  its  mouth, 
which  opened  into  a  cave.  Here  father  and  daughter 
remained  in  concealment,  subsisting  upon  mountain  roots 
and  berries,  and  when  they  deemed  it  safe  enough,  they 
withdrew  further  into  the  heart  of  the  forest,  where  they 
built  a  little  hermitage,  in  which  they  took  up  their  abode. 


122 


LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE. 


■  I, 

(^1 


'^1 


I 


As  the  knight  of  Bassenich  was  now  old  and  feeble,  Liba 
was  obliged  to  provide  for  all  his  wants,  ranging  the  forest 
in  search  of  berries,  and  thinking  constantly  of  her  lover, 
Schott  von  Grunstein,  who  must  be  mourning  for  her  as  one 
long  dead.  One  evening,  while  father  and  daughter  were 
sitting  on  a  broad  stone,  talking  over  the  past,  the  knight 
expressed  a  great  desire  to  die,  declaring  he  knew  his  sins 
would  be  forgiven,  for  he  had  sorely  repented  of  all  the  evil 
he  had  done. 

While  he  was  talking  thus,  a  storm  gathered  overhead, 
and  suddenly  a  thunderbolt  crashed  down  upon  them,  slay- 
ing both  father  and  daughter.  Schott  von  Grunstein,  who 
was  wandering  idly  in  the  forest,  came  to  see  where  the  bolt 
had  struck,  and  to  his  surprise  and  amazement  found  a 
charred  and  blackened  corpse  and  close  beside  it  a  kneeling 

female. 

Drawing  near,  and  frightened  by  her  immobility,,  he 
touched  her  and  recognized  his  beloved  Liba,  who  was  quite 
dead  !  After  piously  laying  her  to  rest  beside  her  father, 
near  the  rock  which  is  known  as  the  Treuenfels,  the  discon- 
solate lover  took  up  his  abode  in  their  little  hermitage,  and 
spent  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  seclusion,  longing  for  the 
time  when  he  might  join  his  beloved  in  heaven. 


LOWENBERG. 


CI  c  TOilD  fbixnU 


The  Lowenberg,  another  of  the  Seven  Mountains,  was 
once  the  daily  hunting  ground  of  a  neighboring  knight,  who 
was  so  fond  of  the  chase  that  he  even  hunted  on  Sundays, 
and  once  pursued  his  quarry  to  the  foot  of  the  altar  where  a 
priest  was  celebrating  mass. 

Outraged  by  the  insolence  of  the  knight,  who  then  and 
there  slew  his  game,  the  priest  solemnly  cursed  him.      At  the 


DRACHENFELS. 


123 


same  moment  the  ground  opened  beneath  the  hunter's  feet, 
and  a  pack  of  hounds  from  the  Infernal  Regions  fell  upon 
and  tore  him  to  pieces. 

Ever  since  then,  on  stormy  nights,  this  Sabbath-breaker's 
restless  ghost  hunts  wildly  through  the  air,  followed  by  a 
spectral  train  of  huntsmen  and  hell  hounds,  for  he  can  find 
no  rest,  though  dead,  and  is  condemned  to  lead  the  Wild 
Hunt  forever. 

This  legend,  which  originated  in  the  myth  of  Odin,  leader 
of  the  Raging  Host,  is  told  with  slight  variations  of  many 
places  along  the  Rhine,  where  sudden  wind  storms,  rising 
during  the  night,  are  still  considered  by  the  credulous 
peasantry  as  the  passing  of  a  mysterious  heavenly  host.* 


DRACHENFELS. 

tR>e  Store  of  itolan^* 

The  great  crag  known  as  the  Drachenfels  or  Dragon 
Rock,  where  from  the  river  a  mighty  cave  can  be  seen,  owes 
its  name  to  the  legends  connected  with  it,  which  are  very 
numerous  indeed.  Some  authorities  aver  that  it  was  here 
that  Siegfried  slew  the  Dragon;  according  to  others,  this 
cave  was  the  den  of  a  famous  monster,  who,  in  heathen 
times,  feasted  daily  upon  the  tender  damsels  left  bound  near 
his  lair,  duly  decked  with  flowers,  for  they  were  the  victims 
offered  up  in  sacrifice  to  him. 

It  happened  one  day,  however,  that  the  maiden  chosen  by 
lot  to  appease  the  hunger  of  the  dragon  was  a  Christian. 
Instead  of  fainting  away  and  thus  becoming  a  helpless  prey, 
as  her  predecessors  had  done,  this  maiden  boldly  faced  the 
monster,  holding  up  a  cross  before  his  gaping  jaws.  Terrified 
at  the  sight  of  this  holy  emblem,  the  dragon  started  back, 
lost  his  balance,  fell  into  the  river,  and  was  drowned.  The 
people,  awed  by  this  miracle,  and  pleased  to  be  rid  of  their 

*  See  "  Myths  of  Northern  LandSo" 


124 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


exacting  foe,  allowed   the  maiden  to  preach  to  them,   and 
were  eventually  all   converted   to   the    Christian    faith. 

A  third  legend  relates  that  the  dragon  lingered  in  the 
cave  year  after  year,  opening  its  jaws  to  swallow  ships  and 
crew  whenever  an  unsuspecting  mariner  steered  his  vessel  too 
near  that  dangerous  shore.  This  Httle  pastime  was  continued 
until  far  in  the  Middle  Ages,  when,  one  day,  he  swallowed  a 
ship  loaded  with  nothing  but  gunpowder.  The  effect  we 
are  told  was  instantaneous  and  disastrous,  for  no  sooner  had 
the  inoffensive  looking  black  stuff  reached  the  pit  of  his 
stomach— where  lay  the  inexhaustible  supply  of  fire  which 
dragons  were  then  wont  to  belch  forth  at  will— than  it  sud- 
denly  exploded,  scattering  the   monster's  remains  far  and 

wide. 

This  cliff  is  now  surmounted  by  a  beautiful  new  castle,  the 
Drachenburg,  and  by  the  crumbling  and  picturesque  ruins 
of  what  was  once  a  mighty  stronghold,  occupied  by  the  Lord 
of  Drachenfels  and  his  only  daughter  Hildegarde. 

A  passing  knight  entered  this  castle  at  nightfall,  claim- 
ing the  hospitality  of  the  inmates.  No  sooner  had  he  be- 
held the  lovely  young  chatelaine  than  he  fell  desperately 
in  love  with  her  and  resolved,  if  possible,  to  win  her  for 
his  wife.  In  order  to  produce  a  favorable  impression,  the 
knight  exerted  himself  to  entertain  both  father  and  daugh- 
ter by  recounting  exciting  adventures  by  land  and  sea, 
and  in  doing  so,  unconsciously  revealed  his  identity;  for  the 
deeds  of  young  Roland,  Charlemagne's  beloved  nephew, 
were  the  theme  of  every  wandering  bard. 

As  soon  as  the  Lord  of  Drachenfels  discovered  the  exalted 
rank  of  his  visitor,  he  cordially  pressed  him  to  stay  a  few 
days;  an  invitation  which  Roland  gladly  accepted,  as  it  gave 
him  time  to  urge  his  suit  with  the  fair  Hildegarde. 

Walking  with  him  through  the  romantic  **  Nightingale 
Valley"  at  the  foot  of  the  castle,  one  warm  summer  eve, 
she  listened  blushingly  to  his  passionate  declaration  of  love 
and  gladly  promised  to  become  his  wife. 


O 
> 

n 

n: 

DO 
C 
?0 
O 

n 

> 

H 

r 


I 

ii 


DRA  CHEN  PELS. 


125 


But,  before  the  lovers  could  be  married,  a  messenger 
from  Charlemagne  came  to  summon  Roland  to  war,  for 
the  Saracens  threatened  to  invade  France  and  overthrow 
Christianity  in  Europe.  This  summons  was  so  urgent 
that  no  true  knight  could  hesitate  to  obey,  and  Roland 
regretfully  parted  from  Hildegarde,  promising  to  return  as 
soon  as  possible  to  claim  her  for  his  bride. 

Time  passed  on.  The  rumor  of  Roland's  high  deeds  first 
made  Hildegarde's  heart  swell  with  pride,  then  came  a  long 
weary  time  of  waiting  with  no  tidings  at  all,  and  lastly  a 
messenger  tearfully  reported  that  Roland  had  died,  fighting 
bravely  in  the  Valley  of  Roncevaux. 

At  these  tidings  poor  Hildegarde's  heart  was  almost  broken. 
She  felt  that  all  earthly  happiness  was  over,  and  that  she 
could  only  find  solace  in  prayer.  Finally  she  prevailed  upon 
her  father  to  let  her  enter  the  convent  of  Nonnenworth, 
which  was  situated  on  an  island  in  the  Rhine,  within  sight 
of  her  ancestral  home. 

The  time  of  probation  was  shortened  for  her,  by  special 
dispensation,  and  soon,  having  taken  conventual  vows,  she 
spent  all  her  time  in  the  chapel  praying  for  the  soul  of  her 
beloved.  She  always  added  a  special  entreaty  that  the  end 
might  come,  and  her  longing  heart  be  permitted  to  join 
her  lover  in  the   heavenly  mansions. 

Roland  had  not  perished  in  the  Valley  of  Roncevaux,  as 
history  relates,  and  although  sorely  wounded,  he  slowly  made 
his  way  back  to  the  castle  of  Drachenfels,  where  he  pre- 
sented himself  one  summer  evening,  his  heart  thrilling  with 
joy.  He  was  greatly  astonished,  therefore',  to  see  all  the 
servants  shrink  away  from  him  in  speechless  terror;  but, 
too  impatient  to  pause  and  question  them,  he  rushed  im- 
petuously into  the  great  hall  where  the  Lord  of  Drachenfels 
sat  mournfully  alone,  and  breathlessly  asked  for  Hilde- 
garde. 

A  few  moments  later  the  light  died  out  of  his  eyes,  and 
the  smile  faded  from  his  lips,  for  he  knew  that  Hildegarde 


is6 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


RHEINBREITBA  CH, 


137 


<    :^Bfl) 


had  left  him,  and  realized  that,  as  she  had  already  taken  the 
irrevocable  vows,  he  had  lost  her  forever. 

That  selfsame  night  Roland  rode  sadly  out  of  the  castle 
of  Drachenfels,  and  when  he  had  reached  an  eminence  over- 
looking the  island  of  Nonnenworth,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  Rhine,  he  slowly  dismounted  from  his  steed.  Seated 
upon  a  stone,  he  spent  the  night  gazing  at  the  convent, 
and  wondering  whether  the  twinkling  light  he  saw  was 
burning  in  Hildegarde's  cell. 

Early  in  the  morning  he  saw  the  long  procession  of  nuns 
issue  from  the  convent  door  and  file  into  the  chapel,  and 
fancying  he  could  distinguish  Hildegarde's  graceful  form 
among  the  rest,  he  determined  to  build  an  hermitage  on  the 
very  spot  where  he  sat,  and  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life 
there,  in  watching  over  his  beloved.  This  resolution  was 
soon  put  into  effect,  and  Roland,  the  brave  knight,  having 
disposed  of  all  his  property,  laid  aside  armor  and  sword, 
assumed  the  garb  of  an  hermit,  and  spent  all  his  time  in 
penance  and  prayer,  gazing  continually  upon  the  convent  at 
his  feet  and  at  the  river  which  flowed  between  him  and  his 
beloved. 

One  winter  morning,  he  saw  the  nuns  march  slowly  into 
the  churchyard,  bearing  a  coffin.  His  heart  was  oppressed 
with  fear,  for  the  graceful  form  which  he  had  identified 
with  Hildegarde  was  missing  in  their  ranks.  At  sundown 
the  convent  priest,  visiting  him  as  usual,  informed  him  that 
one  of  the  nuns  was  dead,  and  in  answer  to  his  eager  inqui- 
ries revealed  that  it  was  Hildegarde.  In  faltering  tones 
Roland  then  confessed  who  he  was,  how  dearly  he  had  loved 
the  dead,  and  informed  the  priest  that  when  he  died  he 
wished  to  be  buried  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  spot 
where  Hildegarde  lay. 

Troubled  by  this  request,  the  priest  hastened  thither  on 
the  next  day  to  offer  further  consolations  to  the  mourner, 
but  found  them  useless,  for  Roland  lay  cold  in  death,  but 
with  a  radiant  smile  upon  his  pallid  face.     The  priest  buried 


him  as  he  had  requested,  and  ever  since  then  the  height 
where  the  hermitage  once  stood  has  been  known  as  Ro- 
landseck.  This  name  was  long  borne  by  a  castle  erected 
near  there,  of  which  nothing  but  ruins  now  remain  to 
remind  the  traveler  of  this  touching  tale  of  undying  love.* 
A  later  legend  of  Drachenfels  relates  that  Adelheid, 
the  only  daughter  of  another  castle  owner,  was  wooed  by 
abase  and  cowardly  wretch,  who,  having  been  ignominiously 
dismissed  from  her  father's  presence,  persuaded  her  to  meet 
him  alone  in  the  woods  near  by.  To  deprive  everyone  else  of 
the  bride  he  could  not  secure,  this  man  stabbed  her  mortally, 
intending  to  perish  also,  but,  frightened  by  the  awfulness 
of  death,  he  had  not  the  courage  to  slay  himself,  and  fled 
instead. 

He  must  have  died  shortly  after,  however,  and  it  is  sup- 
posed he  felt  some  remorse  for  his  crime,  for  his  ghost 
nightly  haunts  these  regions.  It  steal  noiselessly  down 
into  the  village  below  the  castle,  to  lay  a  cold  finger  upon 
the  forehead  of  those  about  to  die,  thus  warning  them  that 
their  end  is  near,  and  that  it  is  time  to  make  their  peace 
with  God  and  seek  forgiveness  of  their  sins. 


RHEINBREITBACH. 

Zbc  Zhxcc  Afnera* 

In  the  mountains  just  back  of  Rheinbreitbach  are  the 
oldest  copper  mines  in  Germany,  which,  exhausted  and  filled 
with  water,  are  no  longer  a  scene  of  busy  labor  as  they  were 
a  few  centuries  ago,  when  the  miners  daily  came  there  from 
their  homes  in  Rheinbreitbach  to  work  all  day  in  the  dark 
passages  underground. 

Three  of  these  miners,  who  were  very  good  friends,  always 
walked  back  and  forth  together,  and  worked  side  by  side, 
never  failing  to  breathe  a  short  prayer  ere  they  went  down 

♦  See  Note  13  in  Appendix. 


128 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


n 


- 


i 


into  the  shaft.  But  one  morning,  when  there  was  a  special 
pressure  of  work,  they  omitted  the  prayer,  hurried  down  to 
their  post,  and  were  hard  at  work  when  they  were  startled 
by  a  long,  ominous,  rumbling  sound,  and  by  the  shaking 
of  the  ground  around  them. 

Simultaneously  they  rushed  toward  the  shaft  to  escape, 
but  they  were  too  late,  for  a  huge  mass  of  fallen  earth  and 
stones  blocked  up  the  passage  in  which  they  found  them- 
selves caught  as  in  a  trap.  After  the  first  moments  of  utter 
despair,  they  encouraged  each  other  to  work  their  way  out, 
for  they  had  food  enough  to  last  them  twelve  hours,  and 
their  lamps  had  been  freshly  filled. 

Before  they  began  they  said  their  usual  prayer,  to  atone 
for  the  morning's  omission,  and  set  bravely  to  work,  but  in 
spite  of  all  their  efforts,  food,  strength,  and  light  soon  failed 
them,  and  clasping  each  other's  hands  they  lay  down  in  the 
darkness  saying,  ** God's  will  be  done." 

They  had  lain  thus  a  long,  long  while  when  a  light  suddenly 
appeared  at  one  end  of  the  gallery,  and  with  dilating  eyes 
they  beheld  the  approach  of  the  mine  specter,  Meister  Ham- 
merling,  of  whom  they  had  heard  many  a  tale.  Drawing 
near  them,  the  ghost  addressed  them  in  sepulchral  tones, 
gave  them  a  basket  in  which  they  would  find  all  the  food 
they  required,  a  lantern  which  would  supply  the  necessary 
Hght,  and  bade  them  work  their  way  out  of  the  mine,  prom- 
ising that  the  first  wish  they  uttered  when  they  again  beheld 
the  light  of  day  would  be  granted  them. 

Meister  Hammerling  vanished  after  speaking  thus,  but 
basket  and  lantern  remained,  and  the  three  miners,  refreshed 
and  encouraged,  set  to  work  again  with  renewed  zest, 
although  their  families  in  Rheinbreitbach  mourned  them  as 
dead.  During  seven  years  the  lantern  burned  brightly,  night 
and  day,  the  provision  basket  was  never  empty,  and  the  work- 
men digging  their  way  out,  and  having  no  way  of  counting 
time,  little  suspected  how  long  they  had  been  buried  alive. 
Finally  the  day  came  when  a  blow  from  their  pick^ax  let 


ST,   APOLLINARTSBERG. 


129 


in  the  light  of  day.  Then  the  lantern  was  extinguished,  the 
basket  found  empty.  The  three  men  returned  hearty  thanks 
for  their  delivery,  ere  they  sought  their  homes  in  Rhein- 
breitbach.  Walking  along  briskly  one  exclaimed:  **A11  I 
now  wish  is  to  press  wife  and  children  to  my  heart  once 
more  ere  I  die." 

'*  And  I,"  exclaimed  the  second,  *'  shall  be  ready  to  leave 
the  world  forever,  when  I  have  once  more  seen  my  family  at 
table  with  me  as  usual." 

**  All  I  now  ask,"  exclaimed  the  third,  ''  is  to  linger  for  a 
year  and  a  day  with  my  loved  ones,  and  then  to  be  at  rest." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  three  miners  entered  the  village, 
where  their  appearance  caused  a  great  sensation,  and  where 
all  crowded  around  them,  scarcely  able  to  believe  the  testi- 
mony of  their  own  eyes. 

As  soon  as  the  first  miner  had  embraced  his  wife  and 
children  he  fell  down  dead,  the  second  passed  peacefully 
away  after  his  first  meal,  and  the  third,  having  often 
recounted  his  adventures  in  the  mine,  slept  to  wake  no  more 
on  earth  at  the  end  of  a  year  and  a  day. 


ST.    APOLLINARTSBERG. 

On  the  top  of  a  hill,  near  Remagen  on  the  Rhine,  in  full 

view  of  the  river,  rises  the  pretty  church  dedicated  to  St. 
Apollinaris,  which  was  formerly  a  great  resort  for  pilgrims. 
This  church  is  beautifully  decorated  with  ancient  and 
modern  works  of  art,  and  among  the  latter  are  some  of 
Ittenbach's  and  Mailer's  exquisite  paintings. 

The  first  artist  who  decorated  this  building  is  said  to 
have  been  so  entranced  by  the  view  obtainable  from  the 
church  tower,  that  he  painted  his  own  portait  there,  that 


130 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


ST.    aPOLLINARISBERG. 


131 


his  eyes  might  ever  rest  upon  hill  and  dale,  and  follow  the 
sinuous  course  of  the  glistening  river. 

The  particular  sanctity  of  this  church  is  attributed  to  the 
relics  of  St.  Apollinaris  which  it  contains,  and  which  one 
of  the  bishops  intended  to  convey  to  Cologne  in  the  twelfth 
century.  But  the  ship  containing  the  holy  remains  came 
to  a  sudden  stand-still  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  directly 
opposite  Remagen,  and  as  no  efforts  could  avail  to  make  it 
continue  its  journey  down  the  stream,  the  bishop  declared 
the  saint  had  evidently  elected  to  remain  there. 

Not  very  far  from  the  church,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain, 
is  the  celebrated  Apollinaris  fountain,  whose  waters  are 
bottled  and  sent  to  all  parts  of  the  world  to  aid  digestion. 
A  curious  legend  is  told  about  these  waters  and  a  mediaeval 
abbot,  who  ruled  the  people  roundabout,  but,  instead  of 
giving  them  a  good  example,  practiced  every  vice,  and  was 
particularly  addicted  to  over  eating  and  drinking.  This 
prelate  once  saw  a  beautiful  young  girl  called  Sabine,  whom 
he  began  to  compliment  and  talk  to  in  a  way  utterly  unbe- 
coming an  old  man  and  a  priest.  The  girl,  who  was  virtu- 
ous and  gentle,  rejected  his  unwelcome  attentions;  plainly 
informing  him  that  she  was  engaged  to  a  young  huntsman, 
whom  she  loved  and  was  about  to  marry. 

The  abbot,  furious  at  this  check,  immediately  began  to 
intrigue  to  force  her  to  resign  her  lover,  and  either  obey 
him  or  enter  a  convent;  but  Sabine,  who  had  frankly  told 
her  betrothed  of  the  prelate's  visit  and  conversation,  im- 
plored him  to  secure  for  her  the  protection  of  his  influential 
master,  the  virtuous  lord  of  Aarberg. 

No  sooner  had  this  nobleman  heard  the  young  hunts- 
man's appeal  than  he  promised  to  aid  him,  and  after  trans- 
ferring Sabine  to  a  place  of  safety,  he  waited  for  a  good 
opportunity  to  punish  the  wicked  old  abbot.  This  oppor- 
tunity came  very  soon,  for  finding  that  he  had  been  out- 
witted, the  prelate  tried  to  console  himself  by  eating 
and  drinking  more  than  usual.     He  soon  brought  upon  him- 


self such  a  terrible  attack  of  indigestion,  that  complaining  of 
extreme  dizziness  and  a  strange  loss  of  appetite,  he  prepared 
for  a  journey  to  some  medicinal  springs  at  a  distance. 

On  his  way  thither  he  passed  the  castle  of  Aarberg,  and 
the  master,  warned  of  his  coming,  seized  him  and  put  him 
into  prison.  There  the  abbot  fumed  and  raged  as  much  as 
he  pleased,  but  none  came  at  his  cry.  Lunch,  dinner,  and 
supper  hour  passed  without  bringing  any  of  the  dainty 
dishes  to  which  he  was  so  accustomed  and  devoted. 

His  cries  finally  became  so  imperious  that  a  jailer  appeared, 
and,  in  answer  to  his  clamors  for  food  and  drink,  bade  him 
satisfy  his  hunger  and  thirst  with  the  loaf  of  black  bread 
and  the  jar  of  water  which  had  been  placed  there  for  his  use. 

Vanquished  at  last  by  hunger,— for  the  violent  exercise  he 
had  indulged  in  had  made  him  ravenous, — the  abbot  tasted 
the  bread  and  water,  and  lying  down  upon  the  hard  stones 
slept  far  more  peacefully  than  at  home.  Several  days  he 
spent  thus;  no  one  but  the  jailer  appeared,  and  no  other 
fare  was  vouchsafed  him  than  the  usual  prisoner's  allowance 
of  bread  and  water. 

At  last,  the  lord  of  Aarberg  came,  blandly  inquiring 
about  his  health,  and  asking  whether  his  appetite  had 
returned.  The  prelate  threatened  to  complain  to  the 
emperor,  but  was  silenced  when  the  nobleman  coolly 
answered  that  in  that  case  he  would  feel  himself  called  upon 
to  attract  the  Pope's  attention  to  sundry  little  matters  which 
had  come  under  his  immediate  observation,  and  which  doubt- 
less would  not  receive  his  complete  approval.  Then  the  lord 
of  Aarberg,  again  inquiring  concerning  his  guest's  appetite, 
and  hearing  him  declare  he  was  famished,  made  a  sign. 
Sabine  now  stepped  into  the  cell,  bearing  a  tray  loaded 
with  appetizing  viands,  which  fairly  made  the  abbot's 
mouth  water.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  partake  of  this 
food,  however,  his  host  stopped  him  to  inquire  how  much 
a  journey  to  the  mineral  springs,  with  the  usual  fees  to 
the  local  physician,  would  cost. 


i3> 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


''Six  hundred  ducats! "  exclaimed  the  abbot  gruffly,  for 
he  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  enjoy  his  dinner. 

**Then,  abbot,"  continued  the  lord  of  Aarberg,  ** since 
you  have  recovered  your  health  without  taking  the  journey, 
and  the  water  from  my  fountain  has  entirely  restored  your 
appetite,  you  owe  me  those  six  hundred  ducats,  which  I  will 
trouble  you  to  give  me  before  you  begin  your  meal." 

The  abbot  vainly  demurred,  but  finally,  seeing  his  tray 
vanish  at  a  sign,  he  paid  the  required  sum  and  was 
allowed  to  eat  in  peace.  The  six  hundred  ducats  were 
immediately  handed  over  to  Sabine  as  a  marriage  por- 
tion, and  the  lord  of  Aarberg  courteously  escorted  the  abbot 
home,  dropping  a  very  strong  hint  to  the  effect  that,  should 
he  ever  molest  Sabine  or  her  husband  again,  he  would  not 
fail  to  report  the  matter  to  the  Pope,  who  would  certainly 
not  let  him  off  with  a  mel*e  fine. 

This  warning  proved  effectual  in  hindering  the  abbot  from 
further  misdeeds;  and  when  he  died  shortly  after  from  over 
eating  and  drinking,  the  people  openly  rejoiced  at  the 
thought  that  he  had  ceased  to  trouble  them  forever. 


OCKENFELS. 
tXat^en  at  bla  Word. 

The  ivy-covered  ruins  of  the  castle  of  Ockenfels,  not  very 
far  from  Linz,  once  belonged  to  a  stern,  hard-hearted  knight, 
Rheinhard  von  Renneberg,  who  departed  for  the  war,  leav- 
ing his  only  daughter  Etelinda  in  charge  of  the  castle  chap- 
lain. During  his  absence  Rudolf  of  Linz  fell  in  love  with 
the  maiden,  and,  encouraged  by  the  chaplain,  he  declared  his 
passion.  The  young  people  were  anxiously  awaiting  Rhein- 
hard's  return  to  ask  his  consent  to  their  union,  but  when 
they  heard  he  was  coming  on  the  morrow,  with  a  stranger, 
whom  he  had  selected  as  his  future  son-in-law,  they  knew 
he  would  never  listen  to  their  plea. 


OCKENFELS. 


133 


The  chaplain,  certain  that  Rheinhard  would  ruthlessly 
part  the  lovers,  now  advised  them  to  marry  immediately,  and 
after  he  had  given  them  the  marriage  benediction,  led  them 
into  a  secret  vault,  known  to  him  alone.  There  he  left  them 
with  light,  water,  and  food,  promising  to  come  and  release 
them  when  the  count's  first  outburst  of  anger  was  over,  and 
it  would  be  safe  to  encounter  him.  The  young  people  were 
quite  happy  at  first,  for  they  little  suspected  that  the  cruel 
lord  had  thrown  the  chaplain  into  a  foul  dungeon  as  soon 
as  he  had  heard  the  story  of  his  daughter's  marriage.  He 
said  he  would  keep  him  there  until  he  revealed  where  the 
young  people  were  concealed,  and  swore  a  solemn  oath 
that  he  hoped  he  might  die  a  sudden  death,  if  ever  he  con- 
sented to  forgive  his  daughter  or  her  husband. 

At  the  end  of  several  days  the  young  couple,  having 
neither  water  nor  provisions  left,  and  being  plunged  in 
darkness,  cautiously  stole  out  of  their  hiding  place  by  night, 
passed  unseen  through  the  castle,  and  took  refuge  in  the 
forest,  where  they  dwelt  in  a  cave.  Here  Rudolf  snared 
birds  and  gathered  roots  and  berries  for  the  subsistence  of 
his  lovely  wife.  During  two  years  they  remained  there,  but 
when  a  severe  winter  came  and  their  scant  garments  no 
longer  sufficed  to  protect  Etelinda  and  her  babe  from  the 
cold,  Rudolf  made  up  his  mind  to  brave  her  father's  anger, 
and  to  make  an  attempt  to  obtain  some  relief  for  her  sake. 
He  had  not  gone  far  before  he  met  Rheinhard,  hunting  in 
the  forest,  and  sternly  bidding  him  follow,  he  led  him  to  the 
cave.  There  Rheinhard  found  his  daughter,  almost  frozen 
to  death.  Touched  by  her  sufferings,  he  forgave  her  freely, 
and  took  her  back  to  Ockenfels. 

As  soon  as  he  arrived  there,  he  hastened  to  the  dungeon 
into  which  he  had  cast  the  poor  chaplain,  intending  to  set 
him  free;  but,  losing  his  balance,  he  fell  and  broke  his  neck; 
thus  meeting  with  sudden  death  as  soon  as  he  had  forgiven 
his  only  daughter. 


134 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


LANDSKRONE    AND    NEUENAHR 

Where  the  German  river  Ahr  flows  into  the  Rhine,  stand 
the  ruins  of  the  once  lordly  castle  of  Landskrone,  directly 
opposite  the  fortress  of  Neuenahr.  In  the  beginning  of  the 
Middle  Ages  the  knights  inhabiting  these  two  castles  were 
very  good  friends  indeed,  and,  in  order  to  see  each  other 
daily,  and  as  often  as  they  pleased,  they  spanned  the  rush- 
ing stream  with  a  high  arched  bridge,  the  marvel  of  the 
whole  countryside,  where  it  was  known  as  the  Wonder 
Bridge. 

But  these  knights  died,  their  successors  quarreled,  and 
soon  no  one  crossed  the  bridge,  within  whose  crevices  the 
birds  deposited  seeds  which  sprouted  and  grew,  covering  the 
gray  stones  with  an  intricate  tangle  of  flowering  shrubs  and 
creepers.  Year  after  year  passed  by,  and  the  bridge,  with 
its  burden  of  blossoms,  arching  over  the  rushing  waters, 
was  so  picturesque  that  it  deserved  more  than  ever  the 
title  of  the  Wonder  Bridge. 

When  several  centuries  had  elapsed,  one  of  the  castles 
became  the  property  of  a  young  knight,  who  accidentally  met 
the  young  lady  of  the  other  castle  at  a  tournament,  and  fell 
desperately  in  love  with  her.  Unfortunately,  however,  this 
damsel's  father  was  very  conservative  indeed,  and  so  rigidly 
kept  up  the  family  feud  that  the  young  people  dared  not 
openly  proclaim  their  love.  They  parted  sadly  when  the  fes- 
tivities were  ended,  and  returned  to  their  respective  homes. 
Gazing  out  of  his  window,  toward  the  abode  of  his  beloved, 
the  knight's  glance  suddenly  fell  upon  the  Wonder  Bridge, 
so  long  unused,  softly  illumined  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 
He  resolved  to  try  whether  it  would  not  prove  as  service- 
able to  lovers  as  to  faithful  friends.  So  he  ventured  out 
of  the  long  closed  postern  gate,  and  slowly  and  patiently 
worked   his  way   through  the  flowery  tangle,  startling  the 


LANDSKRONE  AND  NEUENAHR, 


135 


sleepy  birds,  who  had  so  long  been  undisturbed,  and  caus- 
ing them  to  flutter  away  from  their  cozy  nests. 

The  maiden,  standing  at  her  casement,  saw  her  lover 
draw  near  in  the  silvery  moonlight,  which  flooded  the 
long  unused  path,  and  hastened  noiselessly  out  to  meet 
him.  Night  after  night  the  lovers  now  enjoyed  a  clandes- 
tine meeting,  and  finding  that  there  was  no  hope  of  win- 
ning the  maiden's  father  to  consent  to  their  union,  the 
knight  finally  persuaded  her  to  accompany  him  back  over 
the  bridge. 

Gently  and  lovingly  he  helped  her  across  the  stream,  and 
led  her  into  the  chapel  of  Landskrone,  where  a  waiting 
priest  soon  made  them  man  and  wife.  The  Wonder 
Bridge,  having  faithfully  done  its  duty,  and  served  lovers 
and  friends,  finding  itself  now  utterly  useless,  gradually 
crumbled  away  into  ruins,  dropping  its  stones  into  the 
waters,  one  by  one,  until  now  no  traces  of  it  remain. 

Many  years  after  the  marriage  of  these  true  lovers, — who 
lived  happily  together,  and  never  repented  having  made  use 
of  the  means  of  communication  ready  to  hand, — long  after 
the  bridge  had  fallen  into  decay,  the  castle  of  Landskrone 
was  besieged  by  a  great  army.  The  lord  of  Landskrone 
held  out  bravely,  until  at  last  his  garrison  was  so  reduced 
by  famine  and  death,  and  his  walls  so  rapidly  caving  in 
beneath  the  enemy's  heavy  battering  rams,  that  he  could 
not  but  perceive  that  he  would  soon  fall  into  their  hands. 

Too  proud  to  surrender,  yet  wishing  to  save  his  only 
daughter,  he  led  her  to  a  secret  passage,  where  he  prom- 
ised to  join  her  as  soon  as  the  enemy  broke  into  the  for- 
tress, and  escape  with  her  to  a  foreign  land.  In  her  subter- 
ranean retreat  the  maiden  tremblingly  listened  to  the  din 
of  battle  overhead,  and  when  it  suddenly  ceased  she  anx- 
iously watched  for  her  father's  coming.  Hour  after  hour 
went  by,  and  still  he  did  not  appear.  A  cool  spring,  trick- 
ling along  one  wall,  furnished  her  water  to  drink,  and  a 
fissure  in  the  rock  overhead  renewed  her  supply  of  fresh  air 


136 


LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE. 


and  permitted  her  to  distinguish  the  difference  between 
night  and  day. 

The  pangs  of  hunger  soon  began  to  make  themselves  felt, 
however,  and  the  poor  girl,  who  did  not  know  how  to 
escape  from  her  underground  hiding  place,  feared  she  would 
die  of  inanition,  when  she  suddenly  saw  a  snowy  dove  creep 
through  the  fissure  and  drop  a  piece  of  bread  at  her  feet. 
Fed  thus,  like  Elijah  in  the  desert,  the  maiden  lingered 
there,  vainly  waiting  for  her  father,  who  had  fallen  in  the 
last  encounter.  She  was  finally  discovered  and  rescued  by 
some  peasants,  who  had  watched  the  dove  fly  into  the 
crevice  with  bread  pilfered  from  their  tables,  and  soon  issue 
without  it,  thereby  greatly  exciting  their  curiosity. 

As  the  enemy  had  departed,  after  leaving  the  castle  in 
ruins,  the  maiden  had  nothing  more  to  fear.  She  was 
soon  comforted  for  her' father's  loss  by  the  love  of  a  young 
nobleman  of  the  neighborhood,  who  married  her  and 
remained   faithful   to   her   as   long  as   he   lived. 


NEUENAHR. 
B  !fatbet'0  Xegac^. 

The  old  lord  of  Neuenahr  lay  upon  his  deathbed.  He 
had  already  taken  leave  of  all  his  weeping  retainers,  but  the 
most  trying  ordeal  yet  remained,  for  he  had  to  say  farewell 
to  his  two  sons,  who  stood  broken-hearted  beside  him. 

Laying  a  hand  upon  either  bowed  head  in  solemn  blessing, 
the  old  father  bade  them  remember  his  teachings,  live  in 
peace  together,  deal  honorably  with  all  men,  and  then, 
calling  for  his  sword  and  plow,  he  suddenly  added: 

'*To  you,  my  eldest  born,  who  delight  in  warfare,  I 
bequeath  my  trusty  sword, — which  has  never  been  drawn  to 
uphold  an  unjust  or  unworthy  cause, — together  with  my 
ancient  castle,  the  cradle  of  our  race.     But  you,  my  youngest 


ALTENAHR.  37 

son,  who  prefer  the  peaceful  avocations  of  the  husbandman 
and  shepherd,  shall  have  this  plow,  the  emblem  of  all  agricul- 
tural pursuits,  and  may  use  it  to  till  my  broad  acres,  which 
are  henceforth  your  own." 

Having  spoken  thus,  and  breathed  a  last  prayer,  the  old 
lord  of  Neuenahr  passed  away,  and  his  sons  succeeded  him. 
But  while  the  sword  bequeathed  to  the  elder  has  long  been 
covered  with  rust,  and  the  old  Neuenahr  castle  has  fallen  into 
ruins,  the  plow  still  furrows  the  rich  lands  of  the  younger 
son's  inheritance,  which  continue  to  bear  fine  harvests  and 
support  a  happy  and  thrifty  race. 


ALTENAHR. 

^be  JBrave  "(kniflbt  an&  tbe  Craven. 

Where  the  rocks  tower  highest  above  the  German  Ahr, 
a  tributary  of  the  Rhine,  there  once  rose  the  castle  of 
Altenahr,  which  withstood  many  a  long  siege.  On  one 
occasion  an  old  lord  defended  it  bravely  month  after 
month,  year  after  year,  until  all  his  family  and  retainers  had 
perished,  either  from  the  wounds  received,  or  from  the 
terrible   privations  of  a  protracted    siege. 

The  lord  of  Altenahr  finally  remained  alone,  and  feeling 
that  he  could  not  prevent  the  enemy  from  entering  the 
stronghold  now  that  his  garrison  was  dead,  he  donned  his 
armor  for  the  last  time,  mounted  his  war  horse,  and  riding 
up  on  the  ramparts  he  blew  a  defiant  peal  upon  his  bugle. 
The  enemy,  who  suspected  that  the  garrison  was  greatly 
weakened  by  famine,  called  aloud  to  the  old  lord,  imploring 
him  to  surrender,  and  promising  not  to  take  the  life  of  any 
of  his  men.  But  the  old  knight  grimly  informed  them  that 
his  men,  being  dead,  had  escaped  their  tyranny  forever, 
and  that  he   too  would   die  free. 

Then,  with  a  farewell  wave  of  his  hand,  he  plunged  his 


138 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


nCrb  URG. 


139 


I 


'^i 


spurs  in  his  steed,  urged  him  at  full  gallop  along  the  ram- 
part, and  leaping  the  parapet,  which  rose  sheer  above  the 
rushing  river,  he  and  his  steed  plunged  down  into  the  water, 
which  closed  over  them  forever. 

The  castle  which  this  grim  old  knight  defended  so 
bravely  was  again  besieged  by  the  French  in  1690,  but 
instead  of  a  hero  it  was  a  craven  who  now  had  charge  of  the 
garrison.  Summoned  to  surrender,  he  immediately  signified 
his  readiness  to  do  so,  imploring  the  French,  however,  to 
fire  upon  the  castle  thrice,  so  that  he  might  save  his  honor 
by  declaring  he  had  surrendered  only  after  braving  the 
enemy's  fire. 

This  request  was  complied  with,  but  when  the  faithless 
ofiicer,  who  had  been  allowed  to  depart  free,  presented 
himself  before  his  superiors,  they  angrily  demanded  how  he 
had  dared  surrender  before  a  shot  had  been  fired.  The 
officer  vainly  tried  to  defend  himself  by  alleging  that  he  had 
resisted  an  attack,  but  as  the  story  of  the  three  shots  had 
reached  the  general's  ear,  he  was  sentenced  to  die  by 
the  same  number  of  shots  for  which  he  had  betrayed  his 
trust. 


SINZIG. 
Condtantfne'0  Ctosa. 

In  the  year  311,  early  in  the  morning,  just  after  matins 
were  over,  Constantine,  the  first  Christian  emperor,  riding 
forth  to  meet  his  rival  Maxentius,  suddenly  saw  in  the  skies 
overhead  a  resplendent  cross,  on  which  was  inscribed  the 
comforting  assurance  ///  hoc  signo  vi?ices  (By  this  sign  thou 
shalt  conquer).  The  emperor  and  all  the  men  in  his 
legions  immediately  bent  the  knee  before  this  vision,  and  in 
silence  they  watched  the  miraculous  sign  gradually  fade 
away,  until  the  skies  were  as  blue  as  usual.  Then,  strong 
in  the  promise  they  had  received,  they  hastened  on,  and 
meeting  the   enemy  completely  defeated  him. 


Countless  places  claim  the  honor  of  this  miracle,  among 
others  Mainz  and  Rome,  but  the  people  of  Sinzig  invariably 
assure  the  traveler  that  it  occurred  in  their  town,  and  in 
proof  of  their  statement  point  out  an  ancient  painting, 
representing  this  miracle,  which  is  the  chief  treasure  of  a 
quaint  and  interesting  thirteenth  century  church. 


NURBURG. 

Ulrich,  count  of  Niirburg,  was  about  to  die.  As  he  had 
no  wife  or  children  to  smooth  his  dying  pillow,  his  only 
brother  Conrad,  archbishop  of  Cologne,  whose  record  was 
far  from  blameless,  hastened  to  his  bedside  and  tearfully 
exclaimed  : 

**  Alas,  my  brother!  had  you,  like  me,  served  God  all  the 
days  of  your  life,  instead  of  fighting,  you  would  now  be  sure 
of  forgiveness,  and  I,  at  least,  would  know  you  were  enjoy- 
ing bliss  in  Paradise." 

In  answer  to  this  lament  the  lord  of  Niirburg  calmly 
replied  that  as  he  had  loved  the  Lord,  had  always  acted  like 
a  true  knight,  and  had  fought  only  to  defend  the  feeble  and 
oppressed,  he  fully  expected  forgiveness  for  his  sins  and 
admission  into  the  heavenly  realm.  Then,  seeing  a  very 
incredulous  expression  on  the  archbishop's  face,  he  bade 
Conrad  hang  his  shield  upon  a  nail,  and  declared  that  three 
days  after  his  death  he  would  send  him  a  sign  to  prove  that 
his  trust  in  God's  mercy  was  not  misplaced. 

Three  days  after  Ulrich's  death,  while  the  archbishop  was 
anxiously  staring  at  the  shield,  he  suddenly  saw  its  bright 
disk  touched  by  the  dazzling  light  of  a  sunbeam,  which 
played  for  a  moment  over  its  polished  surface  and  then  dis- 
appeared as  the  shield  suddenly  fell  down  to  the  floor. 

An  old  servant,  who  had  overheard  the  brothers'  last  con- 


140 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


versatioii,  and  who  had  seen  the  promised  sign,  now  drew 
near  to  the  astonished  prelate,  tendering  the  keys  of  the 
castle,  and  gravely  said  : 

**God  grant  that  your  life  may  be  such  that,  when  your 
last  hour  has  come  and  your  crozier  hangs  upon  yonder  nail, 
you  may  be  vouchsafed  as  signal  a  token  that  the  Lord  has 
forgiven  your  sins,  and  received  you  into  his  glory.'* 


DATTENBURG. 
TTbe  Specter  TICleDDtng* 

Kurt  von  Stein  was  galloping  wildly  along  the  rocky 
road  in  a  gorge  not- far  from  the  Rhine,  seeking  a  place 
where  he  might  take  shelter  for  the  night,  for  the  storm  was 
raging  and  darkness  was  coming  on  rapidly.  All  at  once 
he  saw  a  light  ahead  of  him,  and  coming  nearer  he  per- 
ceived the  ruins  of  the  ancient  castle  of  Dattenburg.  He 
roused  the  echoes  by  calling  for  a  servant  to  come  and  take 
his  horse.  As  no  one  answered  his  call,  he  soon  dismounted, 
and  felt  his  way  up  the  narrow  winding  stairs,  which  led  to 
the  top  of  the  tower,  where  a  light  was  shining  brightly. 
When  he  came  to  the  last  step  he  perceived  an  open  door, 
and  through  it  he  saw  a  beautiful  lady  sitting  by  a  table  all 
alone. 

In  answer  to  his  courteous  request  for  shelter,  the  lady 
silently  motioned  him  to  enter,  and  the  table,  bare  a  moment 
before,  was  soon  covered  with  all  manner  of  viands,  of 
which  she  invited  him  by  signs  to  partake.  Somewhat  awed 
by  the  maiden's  beauty  and  silence,  the  knight  obeyed, 
glancing  about  him  from  time  to  time,  and  taking  particular 
note  of  two  portraits  on  the  wall.  He  conjectured  these 
must  represent  the  young  lady's  parents,  as  there  was  a  great 
resemblance  between  them,  in  spite  of  the  antiquated  garb. 


DATTENBURG. 


141 


which  would  seem  to  indicate  that  they  had  lived  several 
centuries  before. 

After  having  finished  his  meal,  Kurt  von  Stein  ventured 
an  interrogation,  ^^Your  parents,  I  suppose?"  Receiving 
a  gracious  affirmative  gesture,  he  concluded  the  fair  lady 
was  mute,  and  continuing  his  conversation  on  the  same 
system,  soon  discovered  that  she  was  an  orphan  and  alone, 
the  last  of  her  race.  Excited  by  her  beauty,  he  finally 
began  to  make  love  to  her,  and  before  many  hours  had 
passed,  he  was  kneeling  at  her  feet,  entreating  her  to  be  his 
bride.  Then,  having  won  her  consent,  he  saw  her  crown 
herself  with  a  wreath  of  rosemary,  and  obeying  her  gesture, 
followed  her  down  the  stairs  and  into  the  castle  chapel. 

There  he  was  surprised  to  see  a  numerous  assembly  of 
persons  in  antiquated  garb  steal  from  behind  pillar  and 
tomb  and  silently  take  their  places  in  the  empty  church. 
A  moment  later  a  mitered  bishop  stepped  down  from  the 
tomb  on  which  he  had  been  lying  with  folded  hands,  and 
marching  gravely  up  to  the  altar  began  the  service. 

Kurt  von  Stein,  sobered  now,  and  quailing  with  fear, 
vainly  tried  to  speak  the  necessary  answer  to  the  priest's 
demand,  whether  he  accepted  that  lady  for  wife,  but,  before 
he  could  recover  the  power  of  speech,  the  twelve  solemn 
strokes  from  the  convent  of  St.  Helena  reached  his  ear. 

"  God  have  mercy  upon  me!  "  he  suddenly  exclaimed, 
and  sank  fainting  to  the  ground.  When  he  recovered  from 
his  swoon,  the  sun  was  shining  above  him,  the  phantoms 
had  disappeared,  and  he  was  alone  in  the  ruined  Dattenburg 
chapel,  his  steed  close  beside  him. 

Kurt  von  Stein  hastened  home,  but  as  long  as  he  lived 
he  vividly  remembered  the  night  he  had  spent  in  those 
ruins,  and  often  gave  thanks  for  having  been  saved  from  a 
marriage  with  the  dead,  for  he  instinctively  felt  that  the 
lady  could  have  been  nothing  but  a  ghost. 


I4»  LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 

RHEINECK. 
DeeecrateC)  ^ombs. 

The  tower  of  the  old  castle  of  Rheineck  (which  has 
recently  been  rebuilt)  was  erected  in  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury and  once  belonged  to  a  spendthrift  lord  named 
Ulrich,  who,  having  squandered  all  his  money,  ardently 
longed  for  more.  One  day,  while  he  was  trying  to  devise 
some  plan  to  obtain  gold,  he  saw  an  aged  pilgrim  draw 
near,  and  in  answer  to  his  appeal  for  food  and  shelter  bade 
him  enter  his  dismantled  castle,  whence  the  servants  had  all 
departed,  and  where  nothing  but  bread  and  water  could  be 
procured. 

The  pilgrim,  amazed  at  this  state  of  affairs,  inquired 
whether  there  was  not  a  drop  of  wine  left  in  the  castle  cellar, 
and  when  the  knight  replied  that  all  his  casks  were  dry, 
begged  him  to  go  down  and  inspect  them  once  more. 
Ulrich  and  the  pilgrim  were  soon  wandering  through  the 
great  cellar,  where,  in  a  remote  corner,  the  latter  finally 
discovered  a  well  concealed  cask  of  rich  old  wine.  He 
and  his  host  then  indulged  in  sundry  liberal  potations, 
which  soon  loosened  Ulrich's  tongue,  and  induced  him  to 
confide  to  his  guest  his  intense  longing  for  wealth. 

When  he  had  ended,  the  pilgrim  told  him  that  his  desire 
for  gold  could  easily  be  satisfied,  for  not  far  off  lay  an 
immense  treasure,  which  could  readily  be  obtained.  He 
then  proceeded  to  inform  the  knight  that  the  treasure  was 
under  the  special  protection  of  the  witches,  but  that  as  they 
were  all  on  their  way  to  the  Brocken  for  their  yearly 
Walpurgisnacht  dance,  he  could  easily  secure  it  by  entering 
the  castle  chapel  at  midnight,  breaking  open  his  ancestors' 
tombs,  and  removing  their  bones,  under  which  the  hoard 
had  been  placed  for  safe  keeping. 

Ulrich  was  at  first  greatly  shocked  by  this  proposal,  but 
soon  the  greed  for  gold  overcame  all  his  scruples,  and  he  did 


RHEINECK. 


M3 


as  the  pilgrim  advised.  One  by  one  he  carried  the  molder- 
ing  bodies  out  of  the  chapel  and  laid  them  on  the  grass  at 
midnight.  As  he  was  bending  over  the  last  coffin,  which 
contained  the  remains  of  a  brother  who  had  died  in  infancy, 
he  was  startled  by  perceiving  a  rosy  child  rise  up  at  his 
touch  who  exclaimed: 

*' Brother — quick — quick!  Bring  back  the  dead  to  their 
resting  place,  ere  it  is  too  late  ! " 

A  moment  after  the  child  was  gone,  and  only  a  few 
crumbling  bones  were  to  be  seen.  Filled  with  nameless 
dread,  Ulrich  now  rushed  out  of  the  chapel  to  fulfill  the 
mandate  he  had  received.  As  he  stepped  out  of  the  sacred 
edifice  he  noticed  that  the  pilgrim,  whom  he  had  left 
standing  without,  had  assumed  colossal  proportions,  and 
felt  his  claw-like  fingers  close  over  his  arm,  while  he  ex- 
claimed in  sinister  tones:    ''  Come,  Ulrich,  you  are  mine  !  " 

But  once  more  the  rosy  child  appeared,  crying  loudly  : 

**  Get  thee  behind  us,  Satan  !  "  and  the  devil,  for  it  was  he, 
vanished  at  this  command,  with  a  hoarse  cry  of  rage. 

The  knight,  thus  miraculously  saved  from  an  awful  fate, 
piously  replaced  his  ancestors'  bones  in  their  tombs,  without 
pausing  for  a  moment  to  search  for  the  promised  gold. 
On  the  morrow  he  began  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  humbly 
praying  at  every  shrine  by  the  way  for  the  forgiveness  of 
his  sins. 

Some  years  later,  the  villagers  saw  an  aged  pilgrim  toil 
slowly  up  the  castle  hill.  Failing  to  see  him  come  down 
again,  they  went  in  search  of  him,  and  found  him  dead 
in  the  chapel.  They  turned  the  body  over,  to  view  the 
face,  hidden  in  the  cowl,  and  suddenly  recognized  the 
emaciated  but  well-known  features  of  their  former  lord. 

Since  then,  when  the  moon  is  full,  and  the  village  bell 
tolls  the  midnight  hour,  a  cowled  figure  is  seen  slowly 
wandering  around  the  ruins,  and  the  people  declare  it  is  the 
ghost  of  Ulrich,  the  desecrator  of  his  parents'  tombs,  who, 
in  spite  of  pilgrimage  and  penance,  cannot  yet  find  any  rest. 


144 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE. 


HAMMERSTEIN. 


Cf  c  iEmperor'0  JricnD. 

On  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  very  near  the  river,  but 
perched  high  up  on  a  huge  rock  of  gray  freestone,  rise  the 
ruins  of  the  ancient  castle  of  Hammerstein. 

This  castle  was  occupied  in  the  eleventh  century  by  Otto, 
count  of  Hammerstein,  who  was  unfortunate  enough  to 
enter  into  a  quarrel  with'Erkenbold,  the  powerful  archbishop 
of  Mainz.  But,  while  Otto  carried  on  an  open  warfare,  the 
wily  priest  continually  tried  to  outwit  him  by  underhand 
dealings,  and  ardently  hoped  that  his  opponent  would 
infringe  some  ecclesiastical  decree,  so  that  he  could  have 
the  satisfaction  of  excommunicating  him. 

The  opportunity  soon  occurred.  Otto  married  his  beauti- 
ful cousin,  without  remembering  to  secure  the  sanction  of 
the  Pope,  which  was  indispensable  in  marriages  between 
blood  relations.  The  archbishop,  hearing  of  it,  imme- 
diately excommunicated  his  hated  rival,  and  declared  his 
intention  of  denouncing  him  to  the  emperor  at  the  general 
assembly  at  Cologne. 

Otto,  fearing  lest  he  would  be  forced  to  relinquish  his 
wife,  whom  he  loved  dearly,  vainly  tried  to  capture  the 
priest  on  his  way  down  the  Rhine.  He  only  succeeded  in 
further  increasing  his  enmity,  for  as  soon  as  Erkenbuld 
arrived  in  Cologne,  he  prevailed  upon  the  emperor  to  declare 
war  against  Otto,  and  even  besiege  the  castle  of  Hammer- 
stein. During  this  siege,  both  Otto  and  his  wife  were 
wounded,  still  hebravely  held  out  against  the  imperial  forces, 
until  Henry  IV.,  weary  of  waiting,  declared  that  after  all  the 
Lord  of  Hammerstein's  offense  was  not  so  heinous  that  it 
could  not  be  condoned,  and,  by  dint  of  persuasion  and  com- 
mands, reconciled  Erkenbold  to  his  enemy. 

Otto,  who  loved  to  live  in  peace  with  his  neighbors,  was 


LAACH, 


145 


very  grateful  indeed  for  all  the  emperor's  good  offices  in  his 
behalf,  and  showed  his  gratitude  by  fighting  valiantly  with 
him  for  many  a  long  year.  But,  when  at  last  his  arm  grew 
too  feeble  to  wield  the  sword  with  its  former  vigor  and  effi- 
cacy, he  withdrew  to  his  fortress  of  Hammerstein,  where 
the  tidings  soon  reached  him  that  the  emperor  had  been 
deposed  and  imprisoned  by  his  favorite  son. 

Helpless  to  deliver  him,  Otto  mourned  his  age  and  weak- 
ness, and  often  declared  that  he  wished  his  daughters  were 
sons,  so  that  they  might  go  out  and  do  battle  in  his  stead. 
While  he  was  bewailing  his  master's  fate  one  evening,  several 
years  after  these  tidings  had  reached  him,  the  old  emperor 
appeared  before  him,  disguised  as  a  pilgrim,  told  him  how 
he  had  effected  his  escape  with  the  aid  of  the  jailor,  and 
implored   his  protection  and   support. 

Otto  welcomed  him  warmly,  and  began  to  seek  as 
many  supporters  as  possible  for  him,  so  that  he  might 
wrench  the  imperial  power  from  his  unnatural  son  ;  but, 
before  the  forces  were  fully  assembled,  before  the  first  blow 
had  been  struck,  the  aged  emperor,  worn  out  by  suffering, 
died  peacefully  in  his  old  friend's  arms.  He  forgave  his 
son  and  left  the  crown  and  seal  in  Otto's  keeping,  until 
they  were  claimed  by  his  heir. 

The  castle  of  Hammerstein,  which  was  besieged  many 
times  after  this,  was  completely  destroyed  by  the  French 
in  1660. 


LAACH. 
tTbe  Sunfien  Caatle* 

The  deep  Lake  of  Laach,  near  Andernach  on  the  Rhine, 
fed  by  a  thousand  living  springs  and  with  no  visible  outlet, 
has  not  always  existed,  for  tradition  relates  that  a  great  hill 
once  rose  on  this  identical  spot. 

On  the  topmost  peak  of  this  elevation  was  once  perched 


146 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


a  mighty  castle,  the  home  of  a  wicked  robber  knight,  the 
terror  of  all  the  country  f^r  many  a  mile  around. 

One  day,  this  cruel  lord  of  Laach  partook  of  a  certain 
dish,  which  his  cook  declared  was  composed  of  nothing 
but  stewed  eels,  but  which,  in  reality,  was  a  species  of 
water  snake.  No  sooner  had  he  tasted  it,  than  he  became 
aware  he  could  understand  the  language  of  beasts  and 
birds,  and  wishing  to  keep  this  knowledge  for  himself  alone, 
he  ate  up  all  there  was  in  the  dish. 

It  happened,  however,  that  the  waiter  had  tasted  the 
stew  in  the  pantry,  before  he  set  it  on  his  master's  table, 
and  so  was  just  as  wise  as  he. 

Although  the  lord  of  Laach  now  understood  the  lan- 
guage of  all  Hving  creatures,  he  was  none  the  happier, 
for  he  constantly  heard  them  revile  him  for  his  cruelty, 
and  learned  bitter  truths  about  himself.  These  had  only 
the  effect  of  making  him  more  disagreeable  than  ever, 
instead  of  influencing  him  to  amendment. 

One  day,  however,  he  overheard  the  conversation  of  two 
hens,  and  learned  that  ere  sundown  his  castle  would  sink 
down  deep  into  the  earth.  Hurrying  to  his  stable,  for  it 
was  nearly  time  for  sunset,  the  Lord  of  Laach  hastily 
saddled  his  own  steed,  calling  to  his  servant  to  bring  his 
valuables  as  quickly  as  possible.  But,  when  the  man  clung 
to  his  bridle,  frantically  imploring  him  not  to  leave  him 
behind, — for  he  too  had  understood  the  fowls'  conversation 
and  was  afraid  to  die, — the  cruel  master  struck  him  to  the 
ground  with  his  gauntleted  fist. 

Before  he  could  ride  out  of  the  castle  gate,  however,  the 
sun  set,  and  with  a  sudden  rumbling  noise  the  whole  hill 
sank  down  into  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  with  the  Lord  of 
Laach  and  all  his  servants.  When  the  astonished  peasants 
visited  the  spot  on  the  morrow,  they  found  a  lake  rippling 
in  the  sunlight,  a  lake  said  to  be  bottomless,  for  the  wicked 
knight  is  reported  to  have  sunk  down  to  the  nethermost  hell, 
where  he  is  slowly  roasting  in  punishment  for  his  many  crimes. 


ANDERNACH. 


147 


Many  years  after  this  terrible  judgment,  a  little  castle 
was  erected  on  an  island  in  the  center  of  the  lake,  by  order 
of  another  Lord  of  Laach,  a  poet  and  musician,  who  took 
pleasure  in  dwelling  there.  The  fairies,  who  are  said  to 
haunt  the  lake  in  great  numbers,  were  so  fond  of  this  knight's 
entrancing  music  that  one  night,  while  he  was  sleeping, 
they  gently  drew  island,  castle,  and  master  down  into  the 
crystal  depths  of  the  lake,  where,  on  quiet  evenings,  the 
soft  sound  of  his  lovely  music  can  still  be  heard. 

Not  far  from  the  lake  is  a  monastery  which  these  fairies 
have  also  taken  under  their  special  protection,  and  whenever 
a  monk  is  about  to  die,  they  warn  him  of  coming  dissolu- 
tion by  placing  a  snow-white  lily  in  his  stall  in  the  chancel 
at  midnight.  The  monk,  finding  this  token  in  his  place  at 
early  mass  on  the  morrow,  then  prepares  for  death,  which 
invariably  comes  exactly  three  days  after  the  fairies'  warning. 


ANDERNACH. 

The  little  fortified  city  of  Andernach,  whose  ramparts  are 
still  in  a  fair  state  of  preservation,  was  one  of  the  fifty 
strongholds  founded  by  Drusus,  who  posted  a  legion  here 
to  restrain  the  constant  invasions  of  the  northern  barbarians 
into  the  more  civilized  portions  of  the  realm. 

Chilp^ric,  son  of  Merovig  who  gave  his  name  to  the 
first  dynasty  of  French  kings,  dwelt  in  this  little  town,  and 
the  legends  record  that  while  he  was  on  the  tower  with  his 
wife  Basina,  a  druidess,  she  once  bade  him  look  toward  the 
northeastern  horizon  and  tell  her  what  he  saw. 

The  king  obeyed,  but  soon  shrank  back  in  terror,  exclaim- 
ing that  he  saw  lions,  tigers,  leopards,  and  other  wild  beasts, 
which  seemed  coming  to  devour  him.  Quieting  his  fears,  his 
wife  bade  him  look  again,  and  hereported  that  bears,  wolves, 


148 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


and  hyenas  had  fallen  upon  the  wild  beasts  he  had  first 
noticed,  and  devoured  them  all.  Next  he  saw  dogs,  cats,  and 
mice  devour  the  bears  and  wolves,  falling  a  prey  in  their 
turn  to  smaller  animals  still,  who  suddenly  vanished,  leaving 
the  scene  as  deserted  as  in  the  beginning. 

Turning  to  his  wife  Basina,  who  could  interpret  all  manner 
of  dreams  and  omens,  Chilp^ric  asked  of  her  an  explana- 
tion of  what  he  had  seen,  and  learned  that  his  immediate 
descendants  would  resemble  lions,  tigers,  and  leopards,  and 
would  rule  a  hundred  years.  The  wolves,  bears,  and  hyenas 
were  symbolical  of  the  rulers  who  would  hold  the  land  dur- 
ing the  next  century,  but  they,  with  their  uncouth  appear- 
ance and  rough  manners,  were  destined  to  be  followed  by  a 
timid,  treacherous  race,  typified  by  the  dogs,  cats,  and  mice, 
which  would  finally  be  destroyed  by  the  smallest  of  their 
vassals. 

This  prediction  was  duly  verified,  for  while  the  fz'-st 
Merovingians  were  strong  and  brave,  their  successors  wt;re 
cruel  and  cunning.  Then  came  the  sluggard  kings,  whose 
effeminacy  might  well  be  compared  to  the  cat's  sensuous 
ways,  and  they  were,  as  Basina  had  predicted,  entirely 
supplanted  by  P^pin  the  Short,  the  smallest  man  in  the 
kingdom,  but  founder  of  the  great  Carlovingian  dynasty. 


During  the  Middle  Ages,  the  inhabitants  of  Linz  and 
Andernach  could  never  agree  and  were  continually  at  war, 
each  hoping  to  obtain  the  supremacy  and  utterly  destroy 
the  other  city.  As  the  towns  were  only  a  short  distance 
apart  they  could  often  pounce  upon  each  other  unawares, 
and  the  inhabitants  of  Linz,  knowing  the  people  of  Ander- 
nach were  sound  sleepers,  and  took  special  pleasure  in  pro- 
longing their  morning  nap,  once  resolved  to  attack  them  at 
dawn  of  day. 


ANDERNACH. 
Watch  Tower. 


ANDERNACH, 


149 


In  silence  the  enemy  stole  up  under  the  city  wall,  which 
they  prepared  to  scale.  Their  attempt  would  probably 
have  proved  successful  had  it  not  been  for  the  greediness  of 
two  baker  lads,  who  had  crept  up  into  the  tower  to  steal 
honey  from  the  hives  which  the  watchman  kept  up  there. 

Hearing  a  slight  noise,  and  fearing  the  approach  of  the 
watchman,  the  youths  cautiously  peered  over  the  wall,  and 
thus  became  aware  of  the  enemy's  proximity.  A  moment 
later,  having  thrown  the  hives  down  upon  the  foe,  the  boys 
rushing  to  the  bell  loudly  rang  the  alarm. 

The  Andernachers,  springing  out  of  bed,  hurriedly  donned 
their  armor,  seized  their  weapons,  and  rushed  out,  but  their 
interference  was  no  longer  necessary,  as  the  infuriated  bees 
had  already  routed  the  enemy. 

In  commemoration  of  this  event,  the  statues  of  the  two 
baker  lads  have  been  placed  just  within  the  Andernach  gates. 
There  they  can  still  be  seen,  exact  effigies  of  the  boys  who 
crept  up  the  tower  to  steal  honey,  and  saved  the  town. 


TTbc  XegcnD  ot  St.  ©cnevieve. 

The  most  celebrated  church  in  Andernach  is  dedicated  to 
St.  Genevieve,  who  dwelt  here  in  the  eighth  century.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Brabant,  and  the  wife  of 
Siegfried,  ruler  of  Austrasia,  who  had  established  his  capital 
at  Andernach. 

As  Genevieve  was  as  good  as  she  was  beautiful,  her  husband 
was  very  proud  of  her,  and  very  reluctantly  parted  from  her 
when  the  Saracens  threatened  to  invade  the  southern  part  of 
his  kingdom.  To  make  sure  his  beloved  wife  would  be 
perfectly  safe,  Siegfried  entrusted  her  to  the  care  of  his 
friend,  Golo  of  Drachenfels,  who,  unfortunately,  was  not  as 
virtuous  as  he  appeared,  and  soon  began  to  persecute  Gene- 
vieve with  unwelcome  attentions,  trying  to  persuade  her  to 
break  faith  with  her  husband  and  elope  with  him. 


I50 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE, 


As  she  was  far  too  virtuous  to  listen  to  his  infampus  pro- 
posals, Golo  became  so  angry  against  her  that  he  falsely 
accused  her  of  base  crimes,  and  locked  her  up  in  a  damp 
prison,  where  she  languished  for  several  weeks.  Then, 
learning  that  Siegfried  was  on  his  way  home,  and  fearing 
lest  he  should  discover  the  fraud,  Golo  hurried  out  to  meet 
him,  and  pretending  extravagant  sorrow,  told  him  that 
Genevieve  had  broken  her  marriage  vow,  and  had  stooped 
to  a  low  intrigue  with  Draco,  her  cook. 

Siegfried,  upon  hearing  these  accusations,  flew  into  a 
passion,  declared  he  would  not  enter  the  city  as  long  as 
such  a  base  criminal  lived,  and  bade  Golo  ride  ahead  and 
have  her  immediately  executed,  for  she  had  deserved  death. 
Hard-hearted  as  he  was,  Golo  could  not  bear  to  witness  the 
death  of  the  beautiful  Genevieve,  so  he  summoned  the 
executioner,  bade  him'  lead  her  out  into  the  forest,  and  not 
return  until  he  had  duly  beheaded  her. 

This  man,  touched  by  the  young  creature's  beauty  and 
tears,  could  not  take  her  life,  but  let  her  go,  after  obtaining 
a  solemn  promise  that  she  would  hide  in  the  depths  of  the 
woods,  and  never  appear  in  Andernach  again.  Genevieve, 
alone  and  quite  destitute,  now  withdrew  into  a  cave,  where 
a  white  hind  supplied  the  milk  necessary  for  her  sustenance, 
and  here,  in  the  forest  solitude,  she  gave  birth  to  Siegfried's 
little  son,  whom  she  called  by  his  father's  beloved  name. 

The  child  was  strong  and  beautiful,  and  Genevieve  spent 
all  her  time  in  caring  for  him,  in  gathering  berries,  herbs, 
and  roots  for  food,  and  in  ceaseless  prayer,  for,  in  spite  of 
her  trials,  she  had  not  lost  her  faith  in  God,  whom  she 
served  as  devoutly  as  ever. 

Several  years  thus  were  spent  in  comparative  peace  by 
Genevieve  and  her  child,  while  Siegfried  knew  no  rest,  and 
was  sorely  troubled  by  remorse.  During  the  long  sleepless 
nights  and  companionless  days,  he  continually  thought  of 
the  beautiful  Genevieve,  and  bitterly  regretted  having  con- 
demned   her    unheard,    for   now    that   his    first   anger   was 


SAYN, 


151 


passed,  he  could  not  believe  such  a  pure,  virtuous  woman 
guilty  of  any  heinous  crime. 

To  divert  his  mind  from  this  constant  thought,  Sieg- 
fried rode  out  of  Andernach  one  day,  and  went  into  the 
forest  accompanied  by  a  large  and  merry  hunting  party. 
In  the  course  of  the  day  he  became  separated  from  his  suite 
and  hotly  pursued  a  snow-white  hind.  To  his  surprise,  it 
took  refuge  in  a  cave,  behind  a  beautiful  woman,  who,  gar- 
mentless,  but  completely  veiled  in  her  long  golden 'hair, 
was   caressing  a   lovely  child. 

As  soon  as  he  glanced  at  the  face  turned  in  sudden  terror 
toward   him,   Siegfried   recognized  his  long  lost  wife,   and 
clasping  her  in  his  arms  passionately  entreated  her  to  for- 
give him  for  the  cruel  suspicions,  which  he  was  sure  she  in 
no  wise  deserved.     An  explanation  ensued,  and  when  Sieg- 
fried knew  all,  he  wrapped  his  wife  and  child  in  the  ample 
folds  of  his  cloak,  and  winding  his  hunting  horn  soon  roused 
the  echoes  of  the  dim  old  forest.     His  attendants,  rushing 
to  answer    his  summons,   improvised   a   litter   upon  which 
they  bore  Genevieve  back  to  Andernach  in  triumph.     Golo 
then    confessed    his  crimes,    and    would   have    been  put  to 
death  had   not  Genevieve  interceded   in  his  behalf.       The 
people  of  Andernach,  touched  by  the  story  of  Genevieve's 
sufferings,  and  by  her  simple  faith  in  the  love  and  goodness 
of  God,  honored  her  as  long  as  she  lived,  and  canonized 
and  worshiped  her  as  a  saint  after  her  death. 


SAYN. 
an  f  nterrupteD  TOeODlng^ 

Frederick  of  Sayn,  founder  of  the  ruined  castle  near  the 
new  building  of  the  same  name,  after  fighting  for  years  in 
Spain  against  the  Moors,  returned  home  and  married  a 
beautiful  wife  with  whom  he  was  perfectly  happy.     But,  a 


^52 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


short  time  after  his  marriage  an  angel  of  the  Lord  appeared 
to  him  in  a  dream,  and  bade  him  leave  castle  and  wife, 
and  hasten  off  to  Palestine  to  defend  the  Holy  Sepulcher 
from  the  infidels.  Almost  broken-hearted  at  the  thought 
of  parting  from  his  beloved,  newly  won  wife,  the  Knight 
of  Sayn  nevertheless  obeyed  the  summons,  and  after  seven 
long  ye^irs  spent  in  constant  warfare  the  same  angel 
appeared  to  him  again,  bidding  him  return  to  the  Rhine,  as 
his  wife  had  need  of  him.  With  the  same  unquestioning 
faith  as  before,  Frederick  left  all  and  returned  home,  enter- 
ing his  castle  gates  disgliised  as  a  pilgrim,  only  to  learn  that 
his  wife,  believing  him  dead,  was  even  then  in  the  chapel 
plighting  her  troth  to  his  dearest  friend,  to  whose  care  he 
had  committed  her  when  he  departed. 

Maintaining  his  incognito,  the  pilgrim  hastened  into  the 
chapel,  where,  concealed  behind  one  of  the  great  stone 
pillars,  he  softly  began  a  peculiar  little  love  song.  At  this 
sound  the  bride,  standing  at  the  altar,  fainted  away,  for  she 
recognized  an  air  which  she  had  composed  during  her  honey- 
moon, and  which  was  known  only  to  her  husband  and 
to  herself. 

The  marriage  ceremony,  thus  interrupted,  was  postponed 
to  the  following  day,  and  the  guests  invited  to  take  part  in 
the  banquet,  at  which  the  fair  chatelaine  presided  with  her 
usual  grace  as  soon  as  she  had  recovered  from  her  swoon 
She  paid  no  heed  to  the  pilgrim,  who  was  seated  with  the 
servants  at  the  end  of  the  board. 

The  pilgrim,  however,  had  been  watching  her  attentively, 
and  toward  the  end  of  the  meal  took  a  cup  which  he  filled 
with  wine,  and  after  secretly  dropped  something  into  it,  he 
bade  a  servant  carry  it  to  the  Countess  of  Sayn,  asking  her 
to  pledge  a  poor  pilgrim  for  the  Lord's  sake. 

The  lady  received  the  cup,  bowed  to  the  sender  without 
looking  closely  at  him,  drank  the  wine,  and  then,  perceiv- 
ing the  signet  ring  at  the  bottom  and  recognizing  it,  she 
started  from  her  seat,  ran  to  the  pilgrim,  threw  herself  in 


NIEDERWERTH. 


153 


his  arms  sobbing  for  joy  and  crying,  '*  My  husband  !    my 
beloved  husband  ! " 

An  explanation  ensued,  and  the  pilgrim,  learning  that 
a  lying  rumor  had  proclaimed  him  dead  shortly  after  his 
departure,  and  that  no  tidings  had  been  received  from  him 
since,  freely  forgave  his  friend  and  the  wife  who  had  never 
ceased  to  mourn  for  him,  and  who  had  been  drawn  together 
by  their  common  affection  for  him. 


NIEDERWERTH. 

On  the  long  and  beautiful  island  of  Niederwerth,  almost 
on  the  spot  where  the  village  of  the  same  name  now  stands, 
there  once  rose  a  small  convent,  which  was  inhabited  by  an 
abbess  and  twelve  nuns,  remarkably  holy  women,  who  spent 
all  their  time  in  prayer. 

The  sisters,  who  lived  there  in  perfect  peace,  were  greatly 
terrified  when  they  heard  that  Attila,  the  Scourge  of  God, 
was  drawing  near,  with  his  wild  bands  of  Huns,  who,  being 
heathens,  had  no  respect  for  their  vows  and  treated  all  women 
with  the  most  revolting  cruelty.     As  there  were  no  means 
of  defense,  and  as  their  convent  was  remote  from  any  settle- 
ment, the  poor  nuns  could  rely  on  no  human  aid,  and  prayed 
more  fervently  than  ever  that  Christ  would  have  mercy  upon 
them,  and  dehver  them  from  the  hands  of  their  oppressors. 
One  evening  when  the  midnight  prayers  were  ended,  the 
poor  nuns  were  greatly  startled  by  a  noise  at  the  door;  but 
when  they  discovered  that  it  was  only  a  poor  pilgrim,  they 
bade  him  welcome  in  the  Lord's  name,  tenderly  washed  his 
weary  feet,  and  compassionately  gave  him  food  and  drink. 
When  he  was  somewhat  rested  and  refreshed,  the  pilgrim 
inquired  why  the   nuns  were  thus  prolonging  their  vigils, 
and  when  he  heard  of  the  threatened  invasion  he  exclaimed: 


154 


LEGEN-DS  OF   THE  RHTNE. 


**You  have  helped  me,  now  let  me  advise  you.  Prepare 
thirteen  coffins  within  the  chapel,  and  when  the  foe 
approaches  let  each  sister  commend  her  soul  and  body  to 
God,  and  lie  down  in  her  coffin.  I  will  be  responsible  for 
the  rest." 

The  nuns,  finding  the  advice  good,  immediately  prepared 
their  coffins,  and  on  the  morrow,  when  the  wild  Huns 
appeared  on  the  river  bank,  they  withdrew  to  the  chapel, 
recited  the  prescribed  prayer,  and  calmly  crossing  their 
hands  on  their  breasts,  lay  down  in  their  biers.  As  the  outer 
doors  fell  in  under  the  assailants  ruthless  blows,  the  aged 
pilgrim  suddenly  appeared  in  their  midst,  and  stretched  out 
his  hands  in  blessing  over  them.  Their  eyes  closed,  they 
assumed  a  livid,  corpse-like  hue,  and  soon  appeared  wan  and 
shrunken  like  persons  long  dead. 

Two  angels  then  came,   lighted  all  the  candles   on   the 
altar,  and  when  the  Huns  burst  into  the  chapel  they  drew 
back  appalled  at  the  sight  of  the  angelic  host,  attending  our 
Lord,  who,  under  the  guise  of  an  aged  pilgrim,  had  come  to 
defend  the  helpless  nuns  who  had  put  all  their  trust  in  him. 
Filled  with  nameless  dread,  the  Huns  immediately  re-em- 
barked in  their  frail  skiffs,  and  were  overtaken  by  a  storm, 
in  which  so  many  perished  that  the  Rhine  is  said  to  have 
rolled  corpses  for  many  a  day.     When  the  Hun's  army  had 
swept  onward,  some  of  the  people  visiting  the  island  to  find 
how  the  nuns  had   fared,   found  dormitory,  refectory,  and 
chapel  empty.     Passing  through  the  little  churchyard,  they 
found  thirteen  new  graves  within  it,  each  bearing  the  name 
of  one  of  the  nuns,  and   the  same  date  of  decease.     But 
''  how  they  died,  who  carried  them  there,  and  who  buried 
them  "  remains  a  complete  mystery  to  this  day. 


COBLENTZ,  155 

COBLENTZ. 
St.  •R(t3a. 

Louis  L,  the  Ddbonnaire,  the  unworthy  son  of  Charle- 
magne, is  said  to  have  lived  in  Coblentz  where  his  fair 
daughter  Ritza  was  born  and  brought  up.  This  maiden 
from  early  youth  spent  almost  all  her  time  in  prayer. 
As  soon  as  she  was  old  enough  to  leave  home,  she  obtained 
her  father's  permission  to  retire  to  a  little  hermitage 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Rhine,  on  the  spot  where  the 
Ehrenbreitstein  fortress  now  stands.  To  attend  church, 
Ritza  daily  crossed  the  river,  and  as  her  faith  was  as  pure 
as  that  of  St.  Peter,  she  fearlessly  walked  across  the  waters, 
using  no  support  except  a  slender  little  willow  twig,  which 
she  generally  carried.  Of  course,  the  rumor  of  this  daily 
repeated  miracle  soon  attracted  great  attention.  The  holy 
hermit  was  daily  watched  on  her  passage  to  and  fro  across 
the  river  by  a  breathless  multitude,  who,  when  the  journey 
was  safely  accomplished,  loudly  extolled  her  virtues  and 
called  her  the  saint. 

The  church  bells  were  ringing  loudly  one  stormy  day,  and 
every  wave  was  crested  with  a  line  of  foam,  when  Ritza 
came  down  to  the  shore  as  usual.  For  the  first  time  the 
loud  wind  and  dashing  spray  daunted  her,  and  seeing  a 
heavy  staff  lying  near,  the  maiden  took  it,  instead  of  her 
willow  wand,  which  appeared  too  slender  to  offer  any  sup- 
port in  the  face  of  such  a  terrible  gale. 

Somewhat  hesitatingly  she  now  began  her  journey,  and 
when  she  reached  the  middle  of  the  river,  frightened  by  the 
threatening  appearance  of  the  white-capped  waves,  she 
leaned  heavily  upon  her  staff,  and  immediately  began  to 
sink.  A  moment  later  faith  conquered  ;  she  flung  the 
treacherous  prop  aside,  then  clasped  her  hands,  and  uttering 
a  fervent  prayer  found  herself  able  to  stand  upright  once 
more    in   the    midst    of   the   heaving   and    tossing   billows, 


i\ 


156 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


COBLENTZ. 


157 


through  which  she  safely  made  her  way  to  the  opposite 
shore. 

In  gratitude  for  the  timely  aid  she  had  received,  Ritza 
declared  her  resolution  to  place  all  her  reliance  from  hence- 
forth in  God  alone,  and  daily  crossed  the  tide  without  either 
wand  or  staff.  When  she  died,  the  people  reverently  bore 
her  to  St.  Castor's  church.  There  her  tomb  can  still  be 
seen  ;  the  people  continue  to  revere  her  as  a  saint,  and 
the  Roman  Catholics  still  lay  offerings  upon  her  shrine, 
imploring  her  aid   in  all  cases  of  dire  need. 


HoMe  l>eatb0. 

The  legends  relate  that  Napoleon,  closely  pursued  by  the 
Cossacks,  was  once  sorely  defeated  at  Coblentz  on  the 
Rhine,  where,  surrounded  by  the  enemy,  he  would  have 
been  made  prisoner  had  he  not  been  saved  by  the  presence 
of  mind  of  Corporal  Spohn. 

Seeing  at  a  glance  that  there  was  no  other  means  of  escape, 
the  corporal  implored  the  emperor  to  exchange  hats  and 
steeds  with  him.  The  change  was  effected  ere  the  battle 
smoke  had  rolled  away,  and  while  Napoleon  mounted  on 
an  inferior  steed,  and  with  the  corporal's  hat  on  his  head, 
was  allowed  to  escape  unhindered,  the  Cossacks  pressed 
closely  around  the  pretended  Napoleon,  whom  they  made 
prisoner,  and  proudly  conducted  to  the  Russian  general. 

There,  the  fraud  was  soon  discovered,  and  the  Cossacks, 
enraged  at  being  deceived,  slew  the  brave  corporal,  who 
thus  lost  his  life  to  save  his  master.  According  to  the 
Coblentz  legend.  Napoleon,  in  remembrance  of  his  narrow 
escape  and  Corporal  Spohn's  brave  self-sacrifice,  preferred 
the  uniform  of  a  corporal  to  any  other,  and  wore  it  so  fre- 
quently that  all  the  army  were  wont  to  speak  of  him  with 
affectionate  familiarity  as  Le petit  Caporal. 

Another   historical  souvenir   connected  with   this  city,  is 


es 


the  death  of  the  brave  young  General  Marceau,  who  li 
buried   here,  and  whose  grave   is  mentioned  by  Byron  in 
**Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage,"  thus; 

**  By  Coblentz,  on  a  rise  of  gentle  ground, 
There  is  a  small  and  simple  pyramid, 
Crowning  the  summit  of  the  verdant  mound  ; 
Beneath  its  base  are  heroes'  ashes  hid 
Our  enemy's— but  let  not  that  forbid  ! 
Honor  to  Marceau  .'  o'er  whose  early  tomb 
Tears,  big  tears,  gushed  from  the  rough  soldier's  lid. 
Lamenting  and  yet  envying  such  a  doom. 
Falling  for  France,  whose  rights  he  battled  to  resume. 

Brief,  brave,  and  glorious  was  his  young  career, 

His  mourners  were  two  hosts,  his  friends  and  foes  ; 

And  fitly  may  the  stranger,  lingering  here. 

Pray  for  his  gallant  spirit's  bright  repose  ; 

For  he  was  Freedom's  champion,  one  of  those. 

The  few  in  number,  who  had  not  o'erstept 

The  charter  to  chastise  which  she  bestows 

On  such  as  wield  her  weapons  ;  he  had  kept. 

The  whiteness  of  his  soul,  and  thus  men  o'er  him  wept. 

— Byron, 


Heinrich  and  Bertha  were  lovers.  They  were  separated 
by  the  swift  Moselle,  flowing  into  the  Rhine,  as  well  as  by 
their  cruel  parents,  who  did  not  favor  an  alliance  between 
them.  Heinrich  often  took  up  his  post  on  the  Moselle  bridge 
to  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  fair  face  of  his  beloved,  and  gazed 
with  eager  eyes  at  the  little  house  she  inhabited,  wishing 
that  he  might  visit  her  once  more. 

One  spring  morning,  while  he  was  thus  musing,  paying  no 
heed  to  the  sullen  waters  beneath  him  which  were  seething 
and  hissing  as  they  wildly  rushed  along,  he  saw  Bertha  leave 
her  dwelling  and  step  into  the  ferryboat  to  cross  to  Coblentz. 
His  fixed  gaze  must  have  had  magnetic  powers,  for  the  girl 


'58 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


looked  up,  and,  perceiving  her  lover,  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  pleasure,  as  she  sprang  up  and  stretched  out  her  longing 
arms  toward  him. 

Startled  by  the  sudden  movement  and  exclamation  the 
ferryman  dropped  his  oars,  and  the  vessel,  no  longer 
guided,  was  whirled  rapidly  along  by  the  current  and  dashed 
to  pieces  against  one  of  the  stone  piers.  When  Heinrich 
saw  h.s  beloved  Bertha  in  danger  of  drowning,  he  immedi- 
ately sprang  into  the  water,  and,  after  almost  incredible 
efforts,  succeeded   in  saving  her  from  a  watery  grave 

The  respective  parents,  only  too  glad  to  recover  their 
children  alive,  no  longer  refused  to  sanction  the  wedding 
It  was  witnessed  by  all  the  inhabitants  of  Coblentz  who 
accompanied  the  newly  married  couple  to  their  home,  shout- 
■ng  for  joy,  and  wishing  them  all  manner  of  happiness  and 
prosperity. 


THE  MOSELLE  VALLEY. 
St.  Peter's  tTbfrst. 

The  valley  of  the  Moselle,  along  whose  winding  course  arc 
dotted  many  medieval  castles,  is  the  scene  of  many  of  the 
same  legends  told  of  places  along  the  Rhine,  and  also  of 
two  Christian  traditions  which  we  will  recount  here 

Discouraged  by  the  lack  of  faith  shown  by  the  Jews, 
Christ  IS  said  to  have  often  wandered  away  among  the 
Gentiles,  who  gladly  received  the  good  tidings  He  bore  On 
one  occasion  He  came  to  the  banks  of  the  Moselle  where 
weary  with  His  efforts,  and  panting  with  the  heat,  He  sat 
down  by  the  roadside  with  His  disciples,  bidding  St  Peter 
hasten  on  to  the  neighboring  city  of  Coblentz  and  purchase 
a  measure  of  wine  for  their  refreshment 

JTI ^'''l"'"^'^  '°  "'^  "''y-  ''°"^'^*  '^^  ^5"^'  which  was 
handed  to  him  in  a  deep  wooden  measure  such  as  they  use 

m  that  part  of  the  country,  and  immediately  set  out  to  return 


O 
(/) 

n 


o 


03        ►:; 

•1 


r 

H 

N 


THE  MOSELLE    VALLEY, 


159 


He  had  not  gone  far,  however,  ere  the  wine  began  to  run 
down  over  the  sides  of  the  vessel,  which  had  been  generously 
filled  to  the  brim. 

**  Oh,  dear!  "  exclaimed  St.  Peter,  "this  will  never,  never 
do.  It  is  a  pity  to  lose  any  of  this  good  wine.  I  had  better 
drmk  a  little,  so  1  can  carry  the  measure  without  spilling 
any  of  its  contents." 

Peter,  therefore,  began  to  drink;  but  as  he  was  hot  and 
very  thirsty,  he  took  more  than  the  sip  he  intended,  and 
when  he  raised  his  head,  he  perceived  with  dismay  that  the 
measure  no  longer  seemed  full.  Fearing  lest  he  should  be 
reproved  for  helping  himself  first,  he  quickly  drew  his  knife 
out  of  his  pocket  and  pared  off  a  piece  of  the  rim,  so  that 
the  measure  appeared  as  full  as  before;  then  he  resumed 
his  walk. 

But  soon  the  wine  again  began  to  overflow.  He  took 
another  sip,  which,  being  also  too  prolonged,  forced  him  to 
have  recourse  to  his  knife  for  a  second  time.  Sipping  and 
whittling,  Peter  thus  continued  his  way,  and  when  he  at  last 
^  came  to  the  place  where  the  Master  and  disciples  were  wait- 
'  ing  for  him,  the  measure,  greatly  reduced,  contained  barely 
enough  wine  to  moisten  their  lips. 

Silently  the  Master  gazed  upon  Peter  and  then  remarked: 
*'  Peter,  next  time  you  drink  wine,  be  sure  and  wipe  the  drops 
away  from  your  beard.  But  tell  me,  don't  you  think  the 
people  of  this  country  must  be  very  mean  to  sell  their  vin- 
tage in  such  miserable  little  things  as  these  .> "  and  He 
tapped  the  little  wooden  measure. 

Peter  hung  his  head  and  did  not  reply,  but  ever  since 
then  the  wine  measures  along  the  Moselle,  which  are  very 
small  indeed,  have  been  known  as  ^*  Miserabelchen "  or 
miserable  little  things. 


x6o 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


COCHEM. 

St,  Cbrletopber* 

On  the  banks  of  the  Moselle  rises  the  recently  restored 
castle  of  Cochem,  where  is  found  a  notable  old  mosaic 
representation  of  St.  Christopher,  whose  legend  is  a  favorite 
among  the  neighboring  peasantry,  and  is  as  follows: 

There  was  once  a  giant  by  the  name  of  Offero,  who  had 
proudly  vowed  to  serve  the  mightiest  monarch,  and  no  one 
else.  With  that  purpose  in  view  he  journeyed  about  until 
he  reached  the  court  of  a  king,  whom  all  designated  as 
the  most  powerful  sovereign  on  earth.  This  ruler  gladly 
accepted  Offero's  proffered  services  and  for  a  while  the  giant 
was  very  happy  indeed. 

But  one  day  a  courtier  mentioned  Satan's  name,  and  the 
king,  seated  upon  his  throne,  shuddered.  Surprised  at  this 
demonstration,  Offero  questioned  his  master,  and  learned 
that  Satan  was  king  of  the  Infernal  Regions. 

**Is  he  more  powerful  than  you,  oh,  king?"  thundered 
the  giant. 

**  Alas!  yes,"  replied  the  king. 

**Then  I  shall  leave  your  service,  and  go  in  search  of 
him,  for  I  have  vowed  to  use  my  prodigious  strength  only 
for  the  greatest  of  all  monarchs." 

Offero  departed;  he  had  not  gone  far  before  he  began 
to  inquire  his  way,  and  was  delighted  to  find  that  everyone 
he  met  could  indicate  an  easy  mode  to  *'go  to  the  devil." 

This  being  the  case,  you  can  readily  imagine  that  it  did 
not  take  him  long  to  get  there.  He  tendered  his  services  to 
Satan,  who  gladly  accepted  him,  and  found  plenty  of  work 
for  him  to  do.  One  day  Satan  bade  the  giant  accompany 
him  to  the  surface  of  the  earth,  where  there  was  enough 
to  occupy  them  both,  and  as  they  passed  along  a  highway, 
Offero  saw  his  dauntless  master  tremble  and  gaze  fearfully 


ST.    CHRISTOPHER. 

Tintoretto. 


COCHEM, 


i6i 


to  the  right  and  left.  In  answer  to  Offero's  blunt  question, 
why  he  acted  thus,  Satan  timorously  confessed  that  he 
was  afraid. 

**  Afraid,"    exclaimed    the    giant,    **and  of  what,  pray?" 

**0f  that,"  said  Satan,  pointing  to  a  rude  wooden  cross, 
erected  by  the  roadside. 

The  giant's  surprise  increased,  but  when  Satan  gradually 
proceeded  to  inform  him  that  he  was  so  afraid  only  because 
Christ  had  died  on  a  similar  cross,  he  imperiously  demanded 
who  Christ  might  be,  and  insisted  upon  knowing  whether 
He  was  more  powerful  than  the  master  he  served. 

Satan  shuffled,  hesitated,  and  finally  replied  that  Christ 
was  king  of  Heaven,  and  reluctantly  admitted  that  none  was 
as  powerful  as  He. 

**Very  well,"  exclaimed  Oifero,  *'as  I  have  sworn  to 
serve  the  mightiest  only,  I  will  go  and  seek  Christ,"  and  he 
then  and  there  left  Satan,  and  started  out  in  search  of  the 
new  Master,  who  was  not  as  easy  to  find  as  the  one  he  had 
just  left. 

After  much  journeying  to  and  fro,  Offero  was  finally 
told  to  seek  a  holy  hermit,  who  would  be  sure  to  point 
out  the  best  way  to  find  Christ,  and  after  questioning  this 
man  concerning  the  power  and  importance  of  the  Lord 
he  acknowledged,  he  inquired  how  he  might  best  serve  him: 
*Do  as  I  do,"  replied  the  hermit,  **fast  and  pray  without 
ceasing,  mortify  your  flesh,  and  you  will  serve  Him." 

*'  What!  I,  a  giant,  spend  my  time  in  praying,"  exclaimed 
Offero;  **that  would  be  absurd.  Were  I  to  fast,  I  would 
soon  lose  the  great  strength  which  is  my  proudest  boast, 
and  that  would  never  do.  As  you  say  there  are  many 
ways  of  serving  Him,  I  will  try  and  find  another." 

Once  more  Offero  started  out  upon  his  travels,  and  ere 
long  fell  in  with  a  band  of  pilgrims,  all  bound  for  the 
heavenly  land.  Joining  them,  he  learned  that  Christ's 
Kingdom  was  on  the  other  side  of  a  deep  river,  which  none 
could  cross  until  invited  to  do  so  by  one  of  the  King's  white- 


l62 


LEGENDS  OF   THE   RHINE. 


winged  messengers.  Ere  long  the  little  band  came  to  the 
banks  of  this  stream,  and  all  gazed  with  awe  at  the  dark 
rushing  tide  which  was  spanned  by  no  bridge,  crossed  by  no 
boat,  and  over  which  each  traveler  was  forced  to  make  his 
way  as  best  he  could. 

While  they  were  standing  there,  a  white-winged  mes- 
senger suddenly  appeared  in  their  midst,  to  inform  an  aged 
and  feeble  woman  that  the  Lord  required  her  presence  on 
the  other  side.  The  poor  old  woman,  who  had  longed  for 
the  summons,  v/ent  bravely  down  to  the  river  brink,  but 
when  she  saw  the  rushing  tide,  and  felt  the  coldness  of  its 
waters,  she  recoiled  wailing,  for  she  was  afraid  to  venture 
further  in.  Offero,  hearing  this  pitiful  cry,  then  strode 
boldly  forward,  raised  her  in  his  powderful  arms,  and  bade 
her  have  no  fear,  for  he  would  bear  her  safely  to  the  other 
side. 

True  to  his  promise,  he  carefully  carried  her  across  the 
river,  and  as  he  set  her  gently  down  on  the  bank,  he  bade 
her  tell  Christ  that  Offero,  the  giant,  was  anxious  to  serve 
Him,  and  that  until  he  was  summoned  he  would  make  use  of 
his  strength  to  help  poor  travelers  over  the  river.  Then  he 
turned  round  and  went  back.  Day  by  day,  he  now  helped 
the  pilgrims  over,  often  marveling  at  the  different  ways  in 
which  the  Lord's  summons  were  received,  for  while  some 
herrd  them  with  joy,  others  lingered,  as  if  they  would  fain 
have  waited  a  little  longer. 

In  order  to  be  near  at  hand  night  and  day,  the  giant  took 
up  his  abode  in  a  little  hut  by  the  river's  edge.  One  night, 
when  a  fierce  storm  was  raging,  and  the  darkness  was  almost 
impenetrable,  he  was  greatly  surprised  to  hear  a  plantive 
call.  He  went  out  with  staff  and  lantern,  and  soon  found  a 
little  child,  who  declared  he  must  pass  over  the  river  that 
very  night.  The  compassionate  giant  immediately  lifted 
the  little  creature  upon  his  shoulder,  and,  staff  in  hand, 
stepped  unhesitatingly  down  into  the  cold  and  stormy  waters. 

In  spite  of  all  his  strength,  his  stout  oaken  staff,  and  the 


THURANT.  163 

small  size  of  his  burden,  Offero  stumbled,  struggled,  and 
almost  fell.  At  every  step  the  child  seemed  to  grow  heavier 
and  heavier,  until  he  could  scarcely  stand  up  beneath  its 
weight,  and  was  forced  to  use  every  effort  to  reach  the 
opposite  shore,  where  he  thankfully  set  his  burden  down. 

Then  he  looked  up  to  examine  the  heavy  child  more 
closely,  and  suddenly  saw,  instead  of  an  infant,  a  tall  and 
gracious  figure  before  him,  and  heard  a  gentle  voice  address 
him  saying: 

"Offero,  I  am  the  Christ,  whom  thou  hast  borne  over  the 
river  of  death  this  stormy  night.  Marvel  not  that  thou  didst 
stumble  and  almost  fall  beneath  my  weight,  for  I  have  taken 
upon  me  all  the  sins  of  the  world.  Thou  hast  served  me 
well;  and  henceforth  thou  shalt  be  known  as  Christoffero, 
the  Christ  bearer.     Enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord." 

Because  of  this  beautiful  legend,  St.  Christopher  is 
always  invoked  in  time  of  death  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to 
struggling  mortals,  whose  favorite  saint  he  is  said  to  be. 


THURANT. 
B  Carousing  armi?. 

The  ruins  of  the  ancient  fortress  of  Thurant,  which  was 
first  built  in  1200,  tower  above  the  Moselle,  and  serve  to 
remind  travelers  of  the  many  sieges  which  the  castle  endured 
during  the  Middle  Ages. 

On  one  occasion,  the  united  forces  of  the  bishops  of  Trier 
and  Cologne  surrounded  the  stronghold,  which  was  nobly 
defended  by  its  owner.  He  and  his  brave  garrison  suffered 
much  from  hunger  and  thirst,  while  his  foes  drank  their  fill 
of  Moselle  wine,  declaring  they  hoped  the  castle  would  hold 
out  until  they  had  emptied  barrels  enough  to  erect  as  im- 
posing a  building  as  the  one  they  besieged. 

This  was  before  the  days  of  gunpowder.  Arrows  and 
swords  were  of  no  avail  when  it  was  a  question  of  seizing  a 


x64 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


well-defended  castle,  perched  upon  such  almost  inaccessible 
heights,  where  battering  rams  and  other  ponderous  war 
engines  could  not  be  used. 

To  beguile  the  time,  therefore,  the  hosts  of  Trier  and 
Cologne  drank  morning,  noon,  and  night,  sang  jolly  songs, 
and  kept  up  a  perpetual  carousal.  This  greatly  exasperated 
the  garrison  at  Thurant,  who,  however,  held  out  bravely  for 
two  whole  years,  during  which  time  the  enemy  drained  no 
less  than  three  thousand  casks  of  Moselle  wine.  The  gate- 
keeper, weary  of  this  long  siege,  and  longing  to  join  in  the 
noisy  orgies  which  he  daily  saw  and  heard,  finally  made 
secret  arrangements  to  open  the  castle  gates,  and  deliver 
it  into  the  enemy's  hands.  His  treachery  was  discovered, 
however,  and,  in  punishment,  his  master  ordered  him  to  be 
tossed  la  a  blanket  from  the  top  of  the  castle  tower  into  the 
midst  of  the  enemy's  camp,  where  he  was  so  anxious  to  be. 
Strange  to  relate,  the  gate-keeper  landed  unharmed  in  the 
midst  of  his  foes,  drank  a  long  draught  of  wine,  and  in 
gratitude  for  his  narrow  escape  built  the  chapel  on  the 
Bleidenberof,  from  whence  such  a  beautiful  view  can  be 
obtained. 


GARDEN. 

A  CRUSADER  once  fell  into  the  hands  of  Saracens.  They 
chained  him  fast  in  a  tower  near  the  sea,  where,  through 
the  bars  of  his  prison,  he  could  see  the  white-sailed  ships 
passing  to  and  fro.  The  sight  of  these  vessels  only  made 
his  captivity  harder  to  bear,  and  he  often  prayed  that  he 
might  fly,  like  those  white-winged  vessels,  to  the  western 
shores,  and  again  be  permitted  to  see  his  native  land. 

One  night,  while  sleeping  on  the  hard  stones  of  his  prison 
floor,  the  knight  suddenly  heard  the  flutter  of  wings,  saw 
his  prison  door  open,  and  heard  a  divine  voice  bidding  him 


NIEDERLA  HNS  TETN. 


165 


arise  and  depart.  A  moment  later  he  was  out  of  the 
dungeon,  and,  still  obeying  divine  commands,  he  sprang 
on  the  back  of  a  waiting  swan,  which,  spreading  its  broad 
pinions,  bore  him  rapidly  over  land  and  sea.  When  it 
began  to  sink  he  gazed  downward,  and  recognized  his  native 
place  on  the  banks  of  the  Moselle. 

A  moment  later,  the  knight  awoke,  and  feeling  hard 
stones  beneath  him,  turned  over  in  despair,  thinking  he  had 
again  been  deluded  by  a  tantalizing  dream. 

The  perfume  of  flowers  and  the  ripple  of  water  made 
him  suddenly  open  his  eyes,  however,  and  then  he  saw  with 
rapture  that  he  was  lying  on  the  hillside,  near  his  old  home, 
and  humbly  returned  thanks  for  his  escape  from  captivity. 

In  gratitude  for  his  miraculous  deliverance,  the  knight 
founded  the  lately  restored  church  still  known  as  the  Swan 
Church,  which  is  yearly  visited  by  many  pilgrims. 


NIEDERLAHNSTEIN. 


A  TRAGIC  Story  is  connected  with  the  stretch  of  land  near 
the  junction  of  the  Lahn  and  Rhine.  This  ground  was 
set  apart  as  the  burial  place  of  unrepentant  sinners,  and 
malefactors  of  every  kind. 

Near  this  spot  there  once  dwelt  a  noble  couple  who  rejoiced 
greatly  at  the  birth  of  beautiful  twin  children,  a  boy  and 
girl.  These  little  ones  were  carefully  guarded  during 
their  infancy  by  their  tender  mother.  Her  heart  was  there- 
fore torn  with  anguish,  when  called  upon  to  leave  them  for 
a  short  time  to  go  and  nurse  her  husband,  who  had  been 
mortally  wounded  in  war.  The  servants  received  strict 
instructions  to  watch  over  the  children  night  and  day,  but, 
although  the  nurse  at  first  faithfully  discharged  her  duties, 
she  soon  allowed  herself  to  be  enticed  to  forsake  her  little 
charges  while  they  slept,  and  take  part  in  the  merriment  in 


i66 


LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE. 


which  the  other  servants  indulged,  now  that  they  were  le/t 
to  their  own  devices. 

One  evening  some  gypsies  entered  the  castle  court,  and 
the  servants  soon  began  to  dance  to  the  merry  tunes  they 
played.  The  nurse,  attracted  by  the  alluring  tones,  soon 
joined  them,  leaving  the  children  asleep  in  their  room.  In 
her  excitement  she  entirely  forgot  the  flight  of  time,  and  it 
was  only  when  the  gypsies  had  gone,  and  the  fun  had  been 
duly  talked  over,  that  sfie  hastened  back  to  the  nursery. 
There  she  found  everything  turned  topsy-turvy,  and  no 
trace  of  the  little  girl.  Her  shrieks  of  distress  soon  brought 
the  other  servants,  who  discovered  that  while  they  were  in 
the  court  dancing,  someone  had  entered  the  room  and  had 
stolen  the  child  and  many  objects  of  considerable  value. 

All  search  for  the  little  girl  proved  fruitless,  and  when 
the  widowed  lady  returned  from  her  husband's  death-bed, 
it  was  only  to  learn  that  one  of  her  treasures  had  disap- 
peared. The  other  child  was  safe  only  because  his  pres- 
ence had  not  been  noticed  as  he  had  slipped  entirely  under 
the  bedclothes  in  his  sleep. 

Many  years  passed  by.  The  boy  became  a  man,  and 
wooed  and  married  the  adopted  daughter  of  a  noble  widowed 
lady  farther  up  the  Rhine.  As  soon  as  the  wedding  cere- 
mony was  ended,  the  youthful  bridegroom  hurried  his 
beautiful  wife  home,  where  his  mother  was  waiting  to 
receive  them  and  gently  led  her  new  daughter  to  her  room. 

There  she  lingered  with  her  for  a  while,  questioning 
the  bride  about  her  parentage,  and  inquiring  whether  there 
was  no  mark  on  her  body  by  which  she  might  have  been 
recognized. 

The  newly  wedded  wife  immediately  revealed  that  she 
bore  on  her  bosom  a  tiny  birthmark  like  a  rose,  and  the 
elder  woman,  clasping  her  joyfully  to  her  heart,  declared 
she  was  her  long  lost  daughter,  for  whom  she  had  mourned 
so  deeply. 

The  little  bride  gladly  responded  to  all  her  caresses,  but, 


LAHNECK. 


167 


when  she  suddenly  realized  that  she  had  just  plighted  her 
troth  to  her  only  brother,  she  fell  down  upon  the  floor 
dead.  The  bridegroom  entering  the  apartment  at  that 
moment,  also  learned  the  truth,  rushed  out  of  the  house 
like  a  madman,  and  never  returned.  On  the  morrow,  his 
body  was  found  cold  and  dead  on  the  hillside,  and  as  there 
were  no  marks  of  violence  upon  it  none  ever  knew  how  he 
had  perished. 

The  twins  who  had  slept  together  in  one  cradle,  were 
now  laid  to  rest  in  the  same  grave,  but  as  they  had,  although 
unconsciously,  infringed  the  lav/s  of  the  church,  the  priest 
would  not  allow  them  to  be  buried  in  holy  ground,  but  had 
them  laid  near  Niederlahnstein,  among  the  outcasts. 

"  But  why  with  their  kind 
Rest  they  not  ?     Say,  the  grave  is  surely  blind— 
And  the  dark  mold  which  covers  corpses  in 
Presents  a  front  impenetrable  to  sin. 
Alas  !  alas  !  the  virtuous  of  our  race 
Had  thrust  them  rudely  from  their  resting  place. 
In  yonder  churchyard — consecrated  earth — 
As  though  one  clay  to  all  did  not  give  birth. 
Oh,  hypocrites  !  and  to  this  shying  shore 
Consigned  their  cold  remains  for  ever,  ever  more." 

— Snowe, 


LAHNECK. 
trbc  Xaet  of  tbc  ZTemplarg. 

Near  the  spot  where  the  Lahn  flows  into  the  Rhine,  rises 
the  now  restored  castle  of  Lahneck,  which  was  probably 
first  built  in  the  tenth  century.  This  fortress  was  the  last 
refuge  of  the  Knights  Templar  in  Germany,  for  their  leader 
was  then  the  aged  and  white-haired  Count  of  Lahneck. 
Pope  Clement  V.  and  Philip  IV.  of  France,  coveting  the  vast 
wealth  which  the  order  of  the  Templars  had  amassed 
during    many   years    of   warfare,    accused    the  knights   of 


i68 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


fraud.  Next  they  condemned  Jacques  Molay,  Great  Master 
of  the  order,  to  death,  and  confiscated  all  the  Templar 
property. 

Peter,  archbishop  of  Mayence,  also  instigated  by  the  Pope, 
then  tried  to  secure  the  wealth  of  the  German  Templars  and 
to  force  them  to  dissolve  their  order,  but  threats  and 
decrees  were  alike  unavailing,  as  far  as  the  old  Lord  of 
Lahneck    and   twelve    gf    his    bravest    companions    were 

concerned. 

Resolved  to  remain  true  to  their  vows  at  any  cost,  and  to 
defend  the  property  of  their  order  as  long  as  strength 
endured,  this  handful  of  men  entrenched  themselves  in  the 
castle  of  Lahneck,  where  they  fought  so  bravely  that  they 
succeeded  in  holding  a  force  of  two  thousand  men  at  bay  for 

several  months. 

Finally,  however,  the  heavy  battering  rams  broke  down 
the  castle  ramparts.  The  enemy,  forcing  their  way  through 
the  breach  and  scaling  the  walls  on  all  sides  at  once, 
poured  into  the  fortress,  bidding  the  knights  surrender. 
The  old  Count  of  Lahneck,  who  now  had  only  four  com- 
panions left,  beat  a  retreat  toward  the  inner  fortress, 
sternly  declaring  that  he  would  never  yield,  but  would  sell 

his  life  dearly. 

Step  by  step  he  and  his  little  band  retreated,  but  ere  they 
reached  the  drawbridge  all  had  fallen  except  the  Count  of 
Lahneck.  He  grimly  hewed  right  and  left,  calling  out: 
<*  Honor  and  Right "  at  every  blow,  and  answering  all  the 
summons  to  surrender  by  an  unflinching  ''  Never!" 

The  young  and  brave  leader  of  the  opposite  party,  wish- 
ing to  end  the  fray,  suddenly  threw  aside  his  weapon.  He 
darted  forward,  caught  the  old  man  in  his  strong  arms,  and 
vainly  tried  to  drag  him  away  from  his  dangerous  position. 

** Surrender,"  he  cried  once  more,  as  he  made  a  desperate 
effort  to  pull  him  off  the  drawbridge. 

''  Never!"  reiterated  the  old  lord.  Then,  finding  he  could 
no  longer  resist  the  strong  grasp  laid  upon  him,  he  suddenly 


> 

:?: 

o 

n 
> 


M 


STOLZENFELS. 


169 


flung  himself  over  the  drawbridge,  dragging  his  captor  with 
him.  Both  fell  upon  the  jagged  rocks  below,  where  they 
were  dashed  to  pieces.  It  was  thus  that  the  last  of  the 
Knights  Templar  in  Germany  fell,  having  kept  to  the  end 
his  vow  to  remain  true  to  his  order. 

This  castle,  which  was  destroyed  by  the  French,  and  long 
left  in  a  sad  state  of  ruin,  was  eventually  purchased  by  an 
Englishman  who  intended  to  restore  it.  One  morning  his 
only  daughter,  Bessie,  went  alone  to  the  top  of  the  rmned 
tower.  She  had  no  sooner  cUmbed  up  there  than  the  stone 
staircase  fell  into  ruin,  with  a  crash  which  shook  the  whole 
tower.  The  poor  girl  fainted  in  terror,  and  remained  uncon- 
scious during  several  hours,  while  her  father  vainly  sought 
her,  calling  her  name  repeatedly  yet  receiving  no  response. 

The  bereaved  father  left  the  place  in  despair.  Several 
years  later  the  maiden's  body  was  found  by  some  of  her 
countrymen,  who  had  purchased  the  ruins  and  climbed  to 
the  top  of  the  ruined  tower  by  means  of  a  ladder.  The  lost 
girl  lay  under  a  stone  bench,  still  clutching  in  her  dead 
hand  a  fragment  of  paper  upon  which  her  last  words  could 
plainly  be  seen. 


STOLZENFELS. 

tibe  pet  "Rarcn. 

The  beautiful  castle  of  Stolzenfels,  which  is  now  entirely 
restored,  was  founded  in  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury by  Arnold  von  Isenbourg,  the  archbishop  of  Cleves. 
It  was  once  inhabited  by  Othmar  and  WiUeswind,  a  brother 
and  sister,  who,  having  lost  their  parents,  were  devoted 
to  each  other,  and  to  the  care  of  their  numerous  retainers, 
who  idolized  them  both. 

The  brother  and  sister  were  always  together,  so  WiUes- 
wind grieved  sorely  when  her  brother  was  obliged  to  go  off 
to  war.     He  took  all  the  able-bodied  men  with  him,  and  left 


lyo 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


none  but  the  old  men,  women,  and  children  at  homq.  As 
there  were  many  lawless  robber-knights  along  the  Rhine  in 
those  days,  Willeswind  prudently  ordered  that  the  castle 
gates  should  remain  constantly  closed,  and  only  sallied  forth 
at  midday,  to  visit  a  few  of  her  pensioners  in  the  village, 
and  carry  them  the  alms  she  was  wont  to  bestow. 

One  evening,  while  she  was  sitting  in  the  hall  with  all  her 
retainers,  keeping  tjie  women  busily  at  work  spinning  and 
watching  the  men  as  they  burnished  their  arms,  the  warder 
suddenly  came  to  announce  the  presence  of  a  pilgrim,  beg- 
ging for  shelter.  Willeswind  immediately  gave  orders  that 
he  should  be  admitted;  but,  in  spite  of  his  worn  garments, 
he  inspired  her  with  a  vague  feeling  of  fear,  for  his  face  was 
cunning  and  cruel,  and  his  roving  glances  seemed  to  take 
note  oi  the  castle  defenses,  and  of  the  small  number  of  her 
aged  retainers. 

Her  suspicions,  which  were  shared  by  the  warder,  were 
only  too  soon  justified,  for  although  the  pilgrim  departed 
peaceably  on  the  morrow,  he  came  back  three  days  later,  in 
full  armor,  coolly  demanding  her  hand  in  marriage,  and 
threatening  to  take  her  by  force  if  she  did  not  consent  to 
his  proposal  within  three  days'  time. 

Willeswind,  knowing  it  would  be  impossible  for  her  aged 
retainers  to  hold  out  against  the  robber  knight's  well- 
appointed  forces  until  her  brother,  to  whom  she  dispatched 
a  message,  could  come  to  her  rescue,  finally  decided  to  take 
the  warder's  advice  and  withdraw  into  a  neighboring  convent. 

On  her  way  thither  with  a  small  escort,  she  fell  into  an 
ambush  laid  by  the  treacherous  knight.  He  soon  overcame 
her  retainers'  brave  but  feeble  resistance,  made  her  captive, 
and  carried  her  off  with  her  maid  to  a  lonely  tower  in  the 
woods.  There  he  locked  them  both  in,  declaring  he  would 
come  in  three  days'  time  to  receive  a  favorable  answer  to 
his  suit. 

As  soon  as  he  had  departed,  Willeswind  and  her  maid 
began  to  inspect  the  premises,  but  could  devise  no  means  of 


t 


STOLZENFELS    CASTLE. 


STOLZENFELS. 


171 


escape,  for  the  walls  were  thick,  doors  and  windows  heavily 
barred,  and,  in  spite  of  careful  search,  they  could  find 
neither  water  nor  food.  While  the  unhappy  captives  were 
peering  anxiously  through  the  barred  windows,  and  con- 
vincing themselves  that  the  tower  lay  in  the  wilderness 
where  no  passer-by  would  come  to  lend  them  aid,  Willeswind 
suddenly  perceived  her  pet  raven,  which  she  whistled  to 
ber  side. 

She  and  Othmar  had  trained  this  bird  to  bring  them 
berries  at  a  sign,  and  she  now  resolved  to  make  good  use  of 
the  faithful  raven.  It  journeyed  busily  to  and  fro,  bring- 
ing so  many  luscious  berries  that  Willeswind  and  her  maid 
did  not  suffer  acutely  from  either  hunger  or  thirst.  Three 
days  later  the  robber  knight  appeared,  seemed  greatly  sur- 
prised when  Willeswind  rejected  his  addresses  as  haughtily 
as  ever,  and  departed,  declaring  he  would  return  in  three 
days,  when  she  would  probably  prove  more  amenable. 
Time  passed  very  slowly  in  that  gloomy  prison.  In  spite  of 
the  faithful  raven's  incessant  visits,  the  girls  were  very 
faint  and  weak,  and  on  the  sixth  day,  while  eagerly  watching 
for  the  bird's  return,  Willeswind  suddenly  saw  a  knight 
emerge  from  the  thicket  and  ride  by.  Judging  by  his 
horse  and  armor  that  it  could  not  be  her  ravisher,  she 
called  aloud  for  aid,   and  wildly  waved    her  handkerchief 

through  the  bars. 

A  moment  later  the  knight  had  turned,  and  Willeswind 
with  a  cry  of  rapture  recognized  Othmar,  who,  to  reach 
home  sooner,  was  riding  through  the  forest.  Before  he 
could  take  any  measures  to  deliver  her,  however,  the  robber 
knight  came  riding  up  the  overgrown  path,  and  seeing  him, 
challenged  him  to  fight.  Othmar,  furious  at  the  man's 
insolent  behavior,  and  at  the  treatment  he  had  made  poor 
Willeswind  endure,  fought  so  bravely  that  he  soon  stretched 
his  antagonist  lifeless  on  the  ground.  Then  he  seized  the 
keys  at  his  belt,  and  freed  the  captives  who  had  languished 
in  the  lonely  tower  six  days. 


172 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


As  he  and  Willeswind  slowly  rode  away,  the  raven, 
returning  with  a  host  of  its  companions,  swooped  down 
upon  the  robber  knight's  corpse  and  pecked  out  its  eyes. 
Willeswind,  safe  home  once  more  in  her  beloved  Stolzenfels, 
now  recounted  all  her  adventures  to  her  brother,  who 
ordered  an  effigy  of  the  raven  to  be  placed  above  the  gate- 
way, to  commemorate  the  fidelity  of  the  pet  bird  whose 
exertions  had  preseryed  two  human  lives. 


ZTbc  Blcbemiet, 

This  same  castle  of  Stolzenfels,  which  commands  such  a 
magnificent  view  of  the  Rhine,  was  the  scene  of  another 
romantic  story.  One  of  the  lords  of  the  castle  once  left 
home,  intrusting  all  his- wealth  and  the  administration  of 
his  property  to  a  steward  whose  fidelity  he  had  often  tested. 

Unfortunately,  however,  this  man  began  the  study  of 
alchemy,  and  practicing  daily  in  a  turret  chamber  which  he 
had  fitted  up  as  a  laboratory,  he  became  convinced  that  he 
could  discover  the  secret  which  would  transmute  all  base 
metals  into  gold.  In  the  vain  hope  of  discovering  the  process, 
he  used  up  all  his  own  slender  store,  and,  borrowing  gold, 
piece  by  piece,  from  his  master's  strong  box,  he  used  that 
too.  At  last,  hearing  his  master  would  return  in  a  few  days' 
time,  he  examined  the  treasury  and  found  it  nearly  empty. 

Terrified  at  the  account  he  would  have  to  render,  the 
steward  was  brooding  gloomily  over  his  situation  one  even- 
ing, when  a  pilgrim,  who  had  taken  shelter  in  the  castle, 
wrung  from  him  a  confession  of  the  cause  of  his  despond- 
ency. This  confession  was  overheard  by  the  steward's 
lovely  young  daughter  Mina.  Horrified  at  the  thought 
that  her  father  had  robbed  his  master,  she  stole  sadly  off  to 
bed,  w^ondering  how  she  might  save  his  honor.  She  little 
suspected  that  the  pretended  pilgrim  was  the  alchemist 
Maso,  who,  by  promises  of  unlimited  wealth,  was  inducing 


STOLZENFELS, 


173 


her  unhappy  father  to  furnish  him  with  all  the  gold  left  in 
the  house,  and  to  lend  him  his  retorts  and  alembics. 

The  pilgrim,  having  obtained  all  he  required,  worked  inde- 
fatigably  all  the  next  day.  But  when  the  steward  entered 
the  tower  toward  evening,  he  declared  that  he  had  missed  the 
exact  combination  only  because  the  stars  were  not  in  the  right 
position,  and  that  he  was  sure  of  discovering  the  secret  on 
the  morrow,  when  the  planets  would  be  in  conjunction,  if 
the  steward  would  only  procure  him  a  little  more  gold. 

Mina,  who  had  stolen  silently  up  into  the  tower,  and  was 
standing  behind  the  door,  heard  her  father  declare  there 
was  not  a  particle  of  gold  left.  Then  the  pilgrim  gradually 
revealed  the  fact  that  a  pure  maiden's  blood  was  an  excellent 
substitute  for  gold,  and  that  if  he  would  only  sacrifice  his 
daughter,  his  honor  would  be  saved.  The  maiden  heard  her 
father  indignantly  refuse,  and  saw  him  rush  away  in  despair. 
Prompted  by  filial  affection  and  the  spirit  of  self-sacri- 
fice, she  entered  the  laboratory,  where  she  offered  to  die  to 
save  her  beloved  father  from  disgrace.  This  generous  pro- 
posal was  unhesitatingly  accepted  by  the  pilgrim,  who  bade 
her  come  at  midnight,  on  the  morrow,  when  the  favorable 
hour  would  have  struck. 

At  eventide  on  the  morrow,  the  lord  of  Stolzenfels  rode 
into  his  castle,  attended  by  many  followers,  one  of  whom  no 
sooner  beheld  the  fair  Mina,  than  he  fell  desperately  in  love 
with  her.  Standing  at  his  bedroom  window  that  night,  this 
young  man  sentimentally  watched  the  light  in  her  casement, 
and  near  midnight  was  surprised  to  see  her  take  up  the  can- 
dle and  leave  the  room. 

By  the  sudden  illumination  of  sundry  windows,  he  soon 
discovered  that  she  was  coming  toward  his  side  of  the  house, 
then,  listening  intently,  he  heard  her  pass  his  door,  and 
creeping  noiselessly  after  her,  he  mounted  the  winding 
turret  stairs,  and  hid  behind  the  door  after  she  had  passed 
into  the  laboratory. 

In  the  deep  silence  he  heard  her  tearfully  inquire  whether 


174 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


nothing  else  could  save  her  father  from  disgrace  on  ,  the 
morrow,  heard  the  pilgrim  assure  her  that  the  sacrifice 
must  take  place,  and  through  a  crack  in  the  door  saw  the 
glittering  dagger  raised  to  strike  her  to  the  heart. 

One  bound  brought  the  young  man  to  her  rescue,  and  a 
moment  later  the  pretended  pilgrim,  flung  aside  by  a  strong 
arm,  fell  among  the  retorts  and  alembics  with  a  crash  which 
awakened  the  whole  household,  and  brought  them  in  haste 
upon  the  scene.  There  an  explanation  took  place,  the 
guilty  steward  confessed  his  crime,  and  the  lord  of  Stol- 
zenfels,  touched  by  his  repentance  as  well  as  by  Mina's 
devotion,  freely  forgave  him.  As  for  the  noble  youth,  he 
soon  won  Mina's  affections,  and  she  became  his  wife, 
all  the  people  of  Stolzenfels  dancing  merrily  at  the  wed- 
ding, and  wishing  the  newly  married  couple  a  long  life  of 
unbroken  prosperity. 


RHENSE. 

Bti  Sxcbandc. 

On  a  wooded  height,  very  near  Rhense  on  the  Rhine; 
stands  the  peculiar  little  octagon  building  known  as  the 
Konigsstuhl,  or  seat  of  the  king.  Erected  in  1376  by  the 
Emperor  Charles  IV.,  on  the  spot  where  the  boundaries  of  the 
four  great  electorates  meet,  it  became  the  trysting  place  of 
the  seven  influential  princes,  who  there  discussed  matters 
of  state  and  elected  the  rulers  of  Germany. 

These  noblemen  caused  seven  stone  seats  to  be  placed 
upon  the  flat  roof  of  the  little  building.  It  fell  into 
decay  at  the  end  of  the  last  century,  but  is  now  exactly 
restored.  The  legend  relates  that  when  Wenceslaus  was 
emperor  of  Germany,  finding  the  cares  of  state  too  burden- 
some to  endure,  he  often  came  here  to  forget  them  in  drink- 
ing the  delicious  Rhine  wines. 


BREY. 


175 


On  one  occasion  he  is  reported  to  have  openly  declared 
that  he  would  gladly  exchange  his  crown  for  a  generous 
yearly  supply  of  the  best  Bacharach  vintage.  Prince  Rupert 
of  the  Rhine,  who  coveted  the  imperial  power,  immediately 
declared  his  readiness  to  furnish  Wenceslaus  with  four 
butts  of  wine  every  year,  in  exchange  for  which  he  received 
all  the  imperial  insignia. 

Wencelaus,  it  is  said,  never  regretted  his  bargain,  but 
the  time  came  when  Rupert  understood  that  the  cares  of 
state  far  outweigh  the  pleasures  and  honors  which  may  accrue 
from  being  sovereign  of  the  whole  land. 


BREY. 

The  villagers  were  all  dancing  merrily  on  the  green,  to 
celebrate  the  harvest  home,  when  they  suddenly  became 
aware  of  the  presence  of  three  beautiful  young  damsels, 
clad  in  flowing  white  garments,  and  crowned  with  garlands 
of  peculiar  waxy-looking  flowers.  Although  the  maidens 
were  total  strangers,  three  village  youths  soon  stepped 
forward  to  invite  them  to  dance,  and  they  heartily  entered 
into  the  spirit  of  the  merry-making. 

When  the  night  was  already  pretty  far  advanced,  and  the 
silvery  moonbeams  flooded  the  landscape,  the  maidens  pre- 
pared to  depart,  refusing  the  escort  of  the  enamoured  youths, 
who  followed  them  as  closely  as  they  dared,  hoping  to  dis- 
cover where  the  beautiful  maidens  lived. 

Imagine  their  surprise,  however,  when  they  saw  the  girls 
step  unconcernedly  down  from  the  bank  into  the  river,  and 
trip  lightly  from  one  silvery-tipped  wave  to  another.  When 
they  reached  the  center  of  the  stream,  the  maidens  suddenly 
paused,  and  holding  out  their  lily-white  arms,  called  to  the 
youths  to  join  them. 

Bewitched  by  their  beauty  and  alluring  gestures,  the  three 


176 


LEGENDS  OF   THE   RHINE. 


youths,  forgetful  of  all  danger,  rushed  blindly  forward,  but 
instead  of  embracing  the  maidens,  who  suddenly  disappeared, 
they  sank  down  into  the  moonlit  river  forever.  At  the 
first  stroke  of  midnight,  three  crimson,  blood-like  streaks 
were  seen  stretching  from  the  shore  to  the  center  of  the 
river.  These  appeared  for  many  centuries,  on  the  anniver- 
sary of  the  youths'  death,  and  after  showing  vividly  for  a 
short  time,  always  vanished  as  suddenly  and  mysteriously  as 
they  had  come. 


tTbelMsfe* 

On  the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine,  almost  smothered  by  the 
luxuriant  shade  of  fruit  trees,  is  the  little  village  of  Brey, 
celebrated  because  it  was*  one  of  the  favorite  haunts  of  the 
Nixie,  a  water  nymph  of  the  Rhine.  Many  stories  are  there- 
fore told  about  her,  and  the  villagers  still  declare  that  she 
has  been  seen  at  a  distance. 

Two  young  huntsmen  once  started  out  from  Brey  at  dawn, 
and  entering  a  skiff,  proceeded  to  cross  the  Rhine.  While 
one  diligently  plied  the  oars,  the  other  gazed  fixedly  down 
in  the  flood,  and  suddenly  exclaimed  that  he  saw  the  Nixie 
combing  out  her  golden  hair.  A  moment  later  he  seized 
his  gun,  and  aiming  at  the  water  sprite  in  wanton  mischief, 
he  pulled  the  trigger  and  shot,  ere  his  companion  could 
hinder  him  from  doing  so. 

Before  they  reached  the  opposite  shore,  however,  a  strange 
look  had  come  into  his  eyes,  and  his  companion  rowed  faster 
and  faster,  nervously  gazing  at  him  from  time  to  time.  All 
at  once  he  muttered  that  the  beautiful  white-armed  Nixie 
was  beckoning  to  him  and  plunged  down  into  the  river. 

Three  days  later  his  body  was  washed  ashore,  and  the 
people  gathering  about  their  former  companion  in  awe- 
stricken  silence,  noticed  that  his  gun  was  still  clasped  close 
to  his  breast.     But,  as  a  beautiful  smile  hovered  over  his 


MARKSBURG. 


177 


rigid  lips,  they  all  whispered  that  the  Nixie  had  evidently 
forgiven  him  for  his  attempt  to  injure  her. 


MARKSBURG. 

The  fortress  of  Marksburg,  which  is  the  ^  ♦-  old  fortress 
along  the  Rhine  which  has  remained  in  a  perfect  state  of 
preservation  to  our  day,  is  almost  impregnable,  and  has  long 
been  used  as  a  state  prison. 

This  castle  once  belonged  to  Ludwig  the  Cruel,  Lord  of 
Braubach,  who  married  a  young  and  beautiful,  but  weak- 
minded  woman,  called  Maria.  As  she  found  it  impossible 
to  love  her  husband,  this  faithless  wife  began  a  flirtation 
with  a  steward  called  Henry,  who  was  passionately  in  love 

with  her. 

The  husband,  however,  soon  discovered  this  state  of 
affairs,  and  being  obliged  to  leave  home  suddenly,  bade  the 
steward  accompany  him,  taking  sundry  precautions  to  pre- 
vent any  clandestine  correspondence.  But,  in  spite  of  all 
his  vigilance,  Maria  and  Henry  managed  to  exchange  many 
a  letter,  and  they  would  have  escaped  detection,  had  not 
Maria  once  made  the  mistake  of  directing  the  letter  in- 
tended for  her  lover  to  her  husband. 

Ludwig  the  Cruel,  finding  he  had  been  outwitted,  was  so 
furious  that  he  rode  straight  home,  where  he  was  not 
expected,  and  flung  the  maid  who  had  acted  as  go-between 
out  of  the  window  on  the  rocks  beneath  the  castle.  Then, 
accompanied  by  two  executioners,  he  entered  unexpectedly 
into  his  wife's  room  and  had   her  beheaded  without  further 

ado. 

This  summary  mode  of  avenging  his  wrongs  was  greatly 

resented  by  his  people,  who  would  doubtless  have  punished 

him  for  his  cruelty  had  they  not  been  afraid  of  him.     But 


178 


LECkNDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


although  avenged,  Ludwig  was  far  from  happy.  He  was 
soon  tormented  by  such  keen  remorse,  that  he  did  penance 
for  his  sins,  and  founded  a  nunnery  which  was  named  in 
honor  of  the  wife  whom  he  had  so  mercilessly  slain. 


DINKHOLD  FOUNTAIN. 

Zhc  Spectral  Jfoot 

In  a  little  valley,  not  far  from  Braubach,  are  the  mineral 
springs  known  as  the  Dinkhold,  the  favorite  haunt  of  a  maid 
named  ^gle,  daughter  of  old  Father  Rhine. 

Many  years  ago  a  young  knight  lived  at  the  head  of  this 
little  valley,  and  daily  rode  down  it  with  his  mounted  train 
on  his  way  to  the  Rhine  or  to  the  chase.  On  one  occasion 
he  was  detained,  and  sending  his  followers  ahead  of  him,  he 
presently  rode  down  the  familiar  valley  alone.  He  started 
with  surprise  when  he  saw  a  limpid  fountain,  in  a  spot  which 
had  hitherto  been  dry  and  arid.  His  surprise  was  further 
increased  at  the  sight  of  a  beautiful  ethereal  creature,  bend- 
ing gracefully  over  the  fountain.  This  creature  proved  so 
attractive  that  he  immediately  dismounted,  and  going  to 
her,  began  to  converse  with  her.  He  soon  learned  who  she 
was,  declared  the  love  which  had  been  kindled  at  the  first 
sight  of  her,  and  was  overjoyed  when  she  confessed  that  she 
had  long  loved  him,  and  had  only  waited  for  him  to  pass  by 
alone  to  reveal  herself  to  him. 

^gle,  the  beautiful  nymph,  in  spite  of  her  protestations 
of  affection  was  very  shy  indeed,  and  ere  long  told  her  lover 
she  must  depart,  bade  him  meet  her  there  on  the  morrow, 
and  vanished  before  he  could  utter  a  protest  or  try  to 
detain   her. 

The  knight  was,  of  course,  faithful  to  his  appointment  on 
the  morrow,  but  when  he  would  fain  have  embraced  the 
timid   i^gle,    she   shrank  back,    exclaiming  that  she    would 


DINKHOLD  FOUNTAIN. 


179 


again  meet  him  on  the  morrow,  but  that  if  by  that  time  he 
had  not  learned  to  behave  as  a  true  and  loyal  knight,  she 
would  never  see  him  again.  As  she  vanished  as  soon  as  this 
speech  was  ended,  the  knight  cudgeled  his  brain  to  find 
out  what  her  mysterious  words  might  mean,  and  it  was  only 
after  several  hours'  reflection  that  he  remembered  that 
while  he  had  uttered  countless  words  of  love,  he  had  never 
mentioned  the  subject  of  marriage. 

His  first  words  on  the  morrow  therefore  were  to  ask  JEgXt 
when  she  would  become  his  wife,  and  to  persuade  her  to 
meet  him  in  his  castle  chapel  that  evening  and  plight  her 
troth  to  him  there  at  the  altar.  ^:gle,  whose  beautiful  face 
grew  radiant  at  these  words,  promised  to  do  so,  warning 
him,  however,  that  a  marriage  with  a  nymph  was  rather 
dangerous,  as  he  would  lose  his  life  should  he  ever  prove 
faithless.  But  the  knight,  sure  of  his  love,  led  her  to  the 
altar,  and  lived  seven  years  with  the  beautiful  .*:gle,  who 
was  a  devoted  wife  and  bore  him  several  lovely  children. 

The  happiness  of  this  married  couple,  which  was  simply 
ideal,  was  troubled  at  last  by  rumors  of  war,  and  /Egle 
shed  her  first  tears  when  her  husband  was  obliged  to  join 
the  imperial  army.  Then  she  clung  to  him  imploring  him 
not  to  forget  her  for  a  moment,  as  faithlessness  would  be 
punished  by  death.  They  parted  bey,ide  the  fountain  where 
they  had  first  met,  and  Mg\Q  returned  home  to  watch  for 
her  beloved's  return. 

After  many  months  of  warfare,  peace  was  concluded,  and 
the  Emperor  Henry,  wishing  to  reward  the  knight  for  his 
bravery,  summoned  him  into  his  presence  and  proposed  to 
give  him  the  hand  of  his  beautiful  niece,  Agnes,  who  had 
long  loved  him  in  secret.  The  knight,  with  much  dignity, 
declared  the  honor  was  far  too  great  for  so  humble  a  subject 
as  he,  and  added  that  being  already  married,  he  could  more- 
over enter  into  no  other  alliance. 

Angry  and  disappointed  at  this  refusal,  Henry  questioned 
him  closely.     When  he  heard  that  he  had  married  a  nymph. 


i8o 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


he  crossed  himself,  summoned  the  bishop  of  Bamberg, 
implored  him  to  convince  the  knight  of  the  sin  of  lovfng  a 
demon,  and  tried  to  prevail  upon  him  to  annul  the  unholy- 
contract  by  an  immediate  marriage  with  his  niece. 

The  bishop  of  Bamberg,  who  was  a  subtle  reasoner,  argued 
with  the  knight,  and  so  bewildered  him  that  he  finally  pre- 
vailed upon  him  to  consent  to  an  immediate  marriage  with 
the  fair  Agnes.  Btit,  when  the  ceremony  was  over,  and 
the  wedding  guests  were  seated  around  the  festal  board,  the 
knight's  eyes  suddenly  dilated  with  horror,  for  there,  before 
him,  appeared  a  small,  white,  naked  foot,  which,  in  the 
presence  of  all  the  guests,  spurned  him  ere  it  vanished. 

With  a  cry  of  **yEgle  !  "  the  knight  fell  down  unconscious, 
and  after  vainly  trying  to  restore  him,  the  bishop  of  Bam- 
berg, who  was  versed  in  magic,  declared  he  must  be  carried 
over  the  Rhine,  as  the  evij  spirits  would  not  relinquish  their 
hold  upon  him  until  he  had  passed  over  running  water. 

The  attendants  immediately  bore  him  down  to  a  boat, 
where  many  of  the  guests  followed  him,  but  when  they 
reached  the  middle  of  the  river,  a  great  wave  swept  suddenly 
down  upon  them  and  dashing  over  the  vessel  carried  off  the 
knight's  body,  which  was  never  seen  again.  One  of  the 
boatmen,  however,  declared  that  he  saw  a  little  white  foot 
thrusting  it  down  under  the  waters,  and  heard  the  unhappy 
knight  again  cry  ^*^gle." 

The  emperor's  niece  Agnes,  having  lost  her  bridegroom, 
withdrew  to  a  neighboring  convent,  where  she  spent  the 
remainder  of  her  life  as  a  nun,  but  on  the  very  day  when 
the  knight  perished,  ^gle  and  her  children  vanished.  At 
the  same  time  the  waters  of  the  Dinkhold  fountain  sud- 
denly turned  bitter  to  the  taste,  and  have  never  again  been 
sweet  as  at  first,  although  they  are  considered  a  sure  cure 
for  every  complaint  except  a  broken  heart. 


BOP  PART, 


i8i 


BOPPART. 


C!  c  Empcror'0  DucWn^^ 

Rudolf  of  Hapsburg  came  to  the  little  town  of  Boppart, 
in  the  year  1288,  to  hold  an  imperial  diet,  for  he  was  very 
anxious  to  obtain  subsidies  to  continue  the  war  in  which  he 
was  engaged.  As  was  his  custom,  he  strolled  about  the 
streets  alone  early  in  the  morning,  and  entering  a  bakery, 
asked  the  old  woman  who  kept  it  for  permission  to  warm 

himself  by  her  fire. 

No  sooner  did  the  old  woman  perceive  his  uniform,  how- 
ever, than  she  became  very  abusive,  declaring  she  hated  all 
soldiers,  for  the  emperor  had  quartered  so  many  upon  her 
that  she  was  reduced  to  want.  She  finally  grew  so  excited 
over  her  wrongs,  that  she  took  a  pailful  of  water  and  flung 
it  angrily  over  her  visitor,  as  he  was  anxiously  beating  a 

retreat. 

Rudolf,  having  returned  home  unseen,  quickly  changed  his 
wet  garments  and  met  his  councilors.  But,  when  they 
proposed  as  usual  to  tax  the  people  to  obtain  money  to 
supply  his  demand,  he  utterly  refused  to  take  their  advice. 
To  prove  how  bitterly  the  people  resented  taxation  he  sum- 
moned the  old  woman,  who,  at  his  bidding,  repeated  her 
assertions  and  accusations  as  fearlessly  as  in  her  own  little 

shop. 

When  she  had  finished  all  she  had  to  say,  the  emperor  left 
the  hall,  bidding  her  await  his  return,  and  soon  reappeared 
in  the  garments  he  had  worn  in  the  morning.  When  the  old 
woman  caught  sight  of  him  she  again  began  to  abuse  him, 
to  the  councilors'  speechless  horror,  for  they  immediately 
recognized  him. 

As  her  victim  paid  no  heed  to  her  angry  vituperation, 
the  old  woman  then  threatened  a  second  dousing;  but  when 
she  suddenly  became  aware  of  her  mistake  she  was  sorely 
frightened,    and    humbly    begged    the    emperor's    pardon. 


l82 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


Rudolf,  who  was  a  magnanimous  ruler,  did  not  at  all  resent 
her  conduct,  but  dismissed  her  with  a  generous  sum  of 
money,  and  then,  turning  to  his  advisors,  remarked  that  it 
was  seldom  that  princes  thus  heard  the  voice  of  the  people. 
The  old  woman's  speech  had  been  so  convincing,  that 
never  again  did  the  councilors  venture  to  suggest  an  increase 
of  the  burdens  which  already  rested  so  heavily  upon  the 
shoulders  of  the  common  people,  and  devised  other  means  to 
raise  the  necessary  funds  for  the  maintenance  of  the  army. 


ZTbe  De0erte^  HClfte* 

Conrad,  one  of  the  lords  of  Boppart,  once  courted  and 
secretly  married  a  poor  but  beautiful  lady,  of  whom  he  grew 
very  weary  after  they  had  lived  together  a  few  years.  As 
all  the  witnesses  of  their  marriage  were  dead,  and  she  had 
no  male  relatives  to  defend  her,  he  one  day  informed  her 
that  he  was  about  to  leave  for  Palestine  to  fight  in  the 
crusade.  He  also  declared  that  his  marriage  was  annulled, 
and  that  he  would  never  recognize  its  validity.  His  poor 
wife,  who  could  show  no  proof  of  her  marriage,  and  could 
only  oppose  his  word  by  hers,  was  almost  broken-hearted  at 
the  thought  of  her  unmerited  disgrace,  and  vainly  implored 
him  to  do  her  justice  ere  he  went  away.  He  would  not 
listen,  however,  and  she  soon  ceased  pleading  and  let  him 
depart. 

As  he  was  gayly  riding  along  on  the  morrow,  Conrad  was 
overtaken  by  a  young  knight,  fully  armed,  and  with  lowered 
vizor,  who  challenged  him  to  fight.  Such  a  challenge  was 
never  refused  in  that  martial  age,  and  Conrad,  closing  in 
with  his  opponent,  soon  dealt  him  a  mortal  blow. 

While  loosening  the  helmet  to  give  the  dying  knight  air, 
he  suddenly  became  aware  that  he  had  slain  his  own  deserted 
wife,  who,  having  none  to  defend  her  rights,  had  preferred 
death  at  his  hands  to  public  disgrace.     Tortured  by  remorse, 


LIEBENSTEIN  AND   STERRENBERG, 


i«S 


now  that  it  was  too  late,  the  knight  tenderly  laid  her  to  rest, 
and  in  her  honor  founded  the  convent  of  Marienberg,  which 
is  now  transformed  into  a  much-frequented  sanitarium. 

He  then  proceeded  to  Acre,  where  he  fought  bravely,  and 
when  he  fell  at  last,  pierced  by  a  Saracen  arrow,  he  breathed 
a  prayer  that  he  might  be  forgiven,  and  permitted  to  meet 
his  wronged  wife  in  heaven. 


LIEBENSTEIN  AND  STERRENBERG. 
^bc  f)Odtilc  :t6t:otbcr6. 

The  two  castles  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  which 
owing  to  their  similarity  and  proximity  are  always  called  the 
*' Brothers,"  were  founded  in  the  beginning  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  They  both  belonged  at  one  time  to  a  noble  lord 
named  Dietrich,  who,  in  dying,  left  a  castle  to  each  of  his 
sons.  He  also  bid  them  share  his  treasure  with  their  only 
sister,  who,  unfortunately,  was  blind. 

The  youths,  who  were  notoriously  unscrupulous,  imme- 
diately resolved  to  take  advantage  of  their  sister's  infirmity 
to  increase  their  own  wealth,  and  leading  her  into  the  strong 
room,  proceeded  to  divide  the  gold  by  the  measureful.  But, 
while  they  carefully  kept  the  measure  right  side  up  when  they 
were  dealing  out  their  own  shares,  they  invariably  turned  it 
upside  down  when  the  turn  of  their  blind  sister  came,  and 
laying  a  single  layer  of  coin  on  the  upturned  bottom,  bade 
her  ascertain  by  touch  that  her  measure  was  full. 

This  unjust  division  ended,  the  poor  girl  took  refuge  in 
the  neighboring  convent  of  Bornhofen,  for  her  fortune  was 
not  sufficient  to  enable  her  to  dwell  elsewhere,  while  the 
avaricious  brothers  each  took  possession  of  his  own  castle, 
and  reveled  in  wealth. 

The  ill-gotten  gold,  however,  did  not  long  suffice  to  make 
them  happy.     They  soon  both  fell  in  love  with  a  lady  who 


184 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


would  not  choose  between  them,  so  they  determined  to 
settle  the  affair  in  a  duel.  Meeting  at  midnight  on  one  of 
the  moonlit  peaks  of  the  mountain,  they  crossed  swords, 
and  after  a  fierce  encounter  both  fell  mortally  wounded. 

Ever  since  then,  the  ghosts  of  the  hostile  brothers — whose 
feud  has  been  immortalized  in  one  of  Heine's  poems — 
haunt  the  spot,  and-at  midnight  the  clash  of  their  swords 
can  still  be  heard,  for  they  are  condemned  ever  to  renew 
that  fatal  duel. 

**  Many  a  century  has  departed, 
Many  a  race  has  found  a  tomb. 
Yet  from  yonder  rocky  summits 
From  those  moss-grown  towers  of  gloom, 

•*  And  within  the  dreary  valley, 
Fearful  sights  ate  seen  by  night ; 
There,  as  midnight  strikes,  the  brothers 
Still  renew  the  ghastly  fight." 

— Heine, 

According  to  another  version  of  the  legend,  the  two 
brothers  were  sole  survivors  of  their  race  and  both  fell  in 
love  with  Laura,  their  father's  ward.  As  she  preferred 
Heinrich  the  younger,  Conrad,  a  noble-minded  man,  imme- 
diately withdrew  his  suit  and  retired  to  his  own  castle,  that 
the  sight  of  his  unhappiness  should  not  trouble  their  bliss. 

Unfortunately,  however,  the  favored  suitor  was  very 
fickle  indeed,  and  before  the  marriage  could  take  place,  he 
suddenly  decided  to  join  a  crusade  and  departed,  intrusting 
his  fair  betrothed  to  his  brother's  care.  Conrad  honorably 
discharged  this  duty,  carefully  suppressing  every  sign  of 
the  love  he  could  not  overcome,  but  his  heart  was  rent  with 
anguish  when  he  heard  that  his  brother  had  broken  his 
promise,  and  was  about  to  return  with  a  beautiful  Greek 
bride. 

Laura  at  first  refused  to  believe  the  report,  but  when 
the  newly-married  pair  actually  arrived,  she  grew  so  pale 


RANKENBERG, 


1^5 


and  wan  that  Conrad  began  to  fear  for  her  life.  One  day 
he  met  his  junior,  whom  he  had  carefully  avoided,  on 
the  hillside,  and  could  not  refrain  from  administering  a 
scathing  rebuke.  Heinrich,  incensed,  drew  his  sword 
and  impetuously  began  to  fight.  While  Conrad  was  ward- 
ing off  his  fierce  blows,  and  watching  for  an  occasion 
to  disarm  him  without  doing  him  any  harm,  Laura  sud- 
denly came  rushing  between  them,  imploring  them  not  to 
quarrel  for  her  sake,  and  declaring  that  she  intended  to  take 
the  veil  in  Bornhofen  convent,  but  could  not  depart  until 
they  promised  to  fight  no  more.  Her  prayers  prevailed, 
but  Conrad's  sense  of  honor  was  too  deep  to  forgive  his 
brother  right  away,  and  he  withdrew  to  his  castle,  erecting 
a  heavy  wall  between  them  which  was  known  throughout  the 
land  as  **  the  wall  of  strife." 

A  few  years  later,  Heinrich's  Greek  wife  suddenly  forsook 
him  in  favor  of  another  lover  more  to  her  taste.  Left 
alone,  the  deserted  husband  had  ample  opportunity  to 
regret  the  lack  of  honesty  which  had  deprived  him  of  all  his 
friends.  Conrad,  however,  hearing  he  was  forsaken  by  all, 
now  nobly  sought  and  forgave  him,  and  became  his  truest 
friend,  although  he  never  forgot  the  pale  nun,  who  was 
spending  her  life  in  penance  and  prayer  within  the  somber 
walls  of  the  Bornhofen  convent. 


RANKENBERG. 


XTbe  (5fant0'  |>ot. 

Three  huge  giants  once  lived  in  a  cave  on  the  Ranken- 
berg  near  the  Rhine.  Their  appetites  were  fully  as  great 
as  their  size,  and  as  they  ate  nothing  but  oatmeal,  they  bade 
a  neighboring  founder  make  them  the  biggest  pot  ever  seen. 
After  cooking  their  porridge  for  the  first  time  in  this  colossal 
new  pot,  the  giants  sat  round  it,  dipping  their  spoons  with 


1 86 


LEGENDS   OF   THE  RHINE. 


military  precision  into  the  center  of  the  mass,  drawing 
them  out  very  full,  opening  their  mouths,  shutting  their 
eyes,  and  gulping  down  each  spoonful  in  concert.  When 
the  last  spoonfuls  had  thus  been  disposed  of,  and  no  por- 
ridge remained  in  the  bottom  of  the  vessel,  each  giant  care- 
fully licked  his  spoon  clean,  and,  running  it  through  his 
belt,  exclaimed  that  the  pot  was  just  the  right  size  to 
satisfy  his  appetite. 

Time  passed  on,  but,  although  the  pot  remained  un- 
changed, and  the  giants  grew  no  larger,  it  seemed  as  if, 
little  by  little,  they  had  less  and  less  to  eat,  and  they  daily 
drew  their  belts  tighter,  to  prevent  their  spoons  from  fall- 
ing through.  Finally,  one  of  them  declared  he  knew  the 
the  pot  was  bewitched,  for  every  day  his  portion  grew  less. 
His  brothers  agreeing  with  him,  they  angrily  invaded  the 
founder's  shop,  threatening  all  manner  of  evil  if  he  did  not 
remove  the  baleful  spell  from  their  pot.  The  poor  man, 
bewildered  by  their  threats  and  accusations,  vainly  tried  to 
defend  himself,  and  to  disarm  their  anger  finally  bade  them 
bring  the  pot  to  him,  so  that  he  could  carefully  examine  it 
and  see  where  the  fault  lay. 

The  giants  immediately  went  in  search  of  their  porridge 
vessel,  and  tipped  it  upon  one  side  so  the  founder  could 
walk  in,  for  it  was  so  large  that  he  could  not  look  over  the 
brim  when  it  stood  upright  on  the  floor.  The  giants 
gloomily  watched  him  walk  in,  and  were  greatly  surprised 
to  hear  him  burst  into  prolonged  peals  of  laughter.  Then, 
setting  aside  their  eager  questions,  he  ran  into  his  shop' 
came  out  again  with  a  hoe,  and  in  a  very  few  moments  had 
scraped  out  a  great  heap  of  dried  porridge  which  had 
gradually  formed  a  thick  crust  all  around  the  edge. 

His  work  finished,  he  turned  to  the  astonished  giants  and 
coolly  said:  **  Gentlemen,  if  you  scrape  your  pot  clean,  you 
will  find  that  it  will  always  contain  the  same  amount  of 
porridge." 

The  giants  took   this  advice   to  heart  and    taught   their 


HIRZENA  CH. 


187 


descendants,  and  all  the  people  around  Rankenberg,  that 
one  of  the  most  important  maxims  of  life  was,  to  *' scrape 
their  pots  clean." 

HIRZENACH. 


tTbe  fnnfteeper'd  Wine* 

A  TRAVELER  oncc  Came  to  Hirzenach,  entered  the  village 
inn,  and  bade  the  host  bring  him  a  jug  of  wine,  that  he  might 
quench  his  ardent  thirst.  The  innkeeper,  Hans  Teuerlich, 
a  thrifty  man,  seized  his  crock,  and  marched  down  into  his 
cellar  where  were  two  faucets.  He  turned  the  first  very 
gingerly,  indeed,  and  partly  filled  the  jug  with  sour  wine. 
Then,  rushing  to  the  other  faucet,  which  was  set  in  the  wall, 
he  turned  it  full  cock,  and  allowed  the  water  from  the 
Rhine  to  flow  freely  until  the  jug  was  quite  full. 

Hans  Teuerlich  then  marched  upstairs  again,  and  filled  his 
guest's  tumbler,  declaring  that  nowhere  would  he  find  such 
good,  unadulterated  Rhine  wine.  The  guest  drank  eagerly, 
but  made  somewhat  of  a  face  when  he  tasted  the  sour  drink, 
and  setting  his  empty  tumbler  down  again  asked  whether 
the  host  were  quite  sure  that  no  water  had  been  mixed  with 
the  wine. 

The  innkeeper  now  swore  more  emphatically  than  ever 
that  his  wine  was  undiluted,  and  himself  poured  out  a 
second  glassful.  But  as  he  did  so,  three  little  fishes  passed 
from  the  jug  into  the  tumbler,  where  they  swam  merrily 
round  and  round,  convicting  the  innkeeper  of  fraud.  Of 
course  the  traveler  saw  the  little  fishes,  made  fun  of  the 
host,  and  duly  advised  him  to  use  a  strainer  next  time  he 
attempted  to  make  Rhine  wine  out  of  Rhine  water.  This 
piece  of  advice  Hans  Teuerlich  took  to  heart,  and  faith- 
fully impressed  upon  his  numerous  descendants,  who  are 
all  innkeepers  along  the  Rhine,  and  who  still  occasionally 
eke  out  their  wine  with  plenty  of  water. 


i88 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


EHRENTHAL. 


The  Ehrenthal  with  its  rich  mines  was  the  property  of 
the  lords  of  Thurnberg,  who,  loving  war,  were  seldom  at 
home,  and  left  the  care  of  their  serfs  and  estates  to  an  able 
steward.  One  of  these  men  was  noted  for  hi«  cruelty  and 
tyranny,  for  he  forced  the  miners  to  work  incessantly,  gave 
them  remarkably  small  wages,  and  ill  treated  even  the  castle 
servants,  who  were  ill  clad  and  ill  fed. 

The  foreman  of  the  mine,  a  young  man  by  the  name  of 
Benno,  had  fallen  deeply  in  love  with  one  of  the  castle 
maids,  Clara,  and  the  young  people  were  very  anxious  indeed 
to  marry.  But,  as  they  were  serfs,  they  could  not  do  so 
without  the  consent  of  their  master,  who  was  absent,  or  at 
least  the  sanction  of  his  steward,  to  whom  he  had  tempo- 
rarily delegated  all  his  authority.  They  therefore  trem- 
blingly ventured  into  the  surly  man's  presence  to  ask  his 
permission  to  marry. 

After  considering  the  matter  for  a  moment,  the  steward 
maliciously  declared  that  they  might  be  united  as  soon  as 
Clara  had  woven  a  bridal  garment  for  herself,  and  a  shroud 
for  him,  out  of  thread  taken  from  nettles  which  she  must 
sow  upon  her  parents'  graves.  He  added  that  the  garments 
must  be  ready  in  three  weeks'  time,  and  that  she  must  be 
very  careful  not  to  have  a  bit  of  thread  left  over.  The 
steward  departed,  laughing  at  the  young  people's  utter 
dismay,  and  bade  them  go  to  work.  Clara  and  Benno  tear- 
fully parted,  the  former  pausing  for  a  moment  to  weep  over 
her  parents'  grave,  ere  she  returned  to  the  castle.  While  she 
knelt  there,  in  tears,  she  suddenly  felt  a  little  hand  laid  upon 
her  shoulder,  and  looking  up  beheld  a  tiny  female  gnome. 
She  bade  her  be  comforted,  for  she  would  help  her  to  fulfill 
all  the  cruel  steward's  conditions.  Then  the  gnome  waved 
her  staff  over  the  grave,  bade  the  maiden  meet  her  here  at 


EHRENTHAL, 


?89 


sundown  on  the  morrow,  and  vanished.  Comforted  by  the 
assurance  the  tiny  creature  had  given  her,  Clara  resumed 
her  work,  and  at  sundown  on  the  next  day  hastened  to  her 
parents'  graves,  which  she  found  covered  with  tall  stalks  of 
nettles.  These  she  hastily  pulled  up  and  bound  into  sheaves, 
as  the  gnome  bade  her,  for  she  could  not  bear  to  see  the 
noxious  weeds  growing  over  the  remains  of  those  she  loved. 

When  the  last  stalk  had  been  bound  into  the  sheaves,  the 
little  old  woman  took  charge  of  the  nettles,  and  departed, 
promising  that  the  girl  would  see  her  again  ere  the  three 
weeks  were  ended.  She  withdrew  to  the  entrance  of  an 
abandoned  mine,  and  there  began  to  prepare  the  nettles 
exactly  as  if  they  had  been  flax. 

A  few  days  later  the  steward,  passing  near  there,  became 
aware  of  her  presence,  and  grimly  asked  what  she  was  spin- 
ning. ''  A  bride's  garment  for  Clara  and  a  shroud  for  you, 
wretch  !  "  replied  the  old  woman,  with  such  utter  conviction 
of  the  truth  of  her  assertion,  that  the  cruel  steward  could 
not  help  shuddering  with  fear. 

When  the  three  weeks  were  ended,  Clara  appeared  before 
the  steward  with  the  bridal  garment  and  shroud,  both 
woven  from  nettles  grown  on  her  parents'  grave,  and  the 
steward  was  obliged  to  consent  to  her  immediate  union  with 
Benno.  But  as  soon  as  the  merry  marriage  peal  was  ended 
which  proclaimed  that  Benno  and  Clara  were  happily  united, 
the  village  church  bells  began  to  toll  loudly,  for  the  cruel 
steward  had  died  suddenly,  and  the  people  openly  rejoiced 
to  hear  that  he  would  trouble  them  no  more,  and  that  his 
shroud  had  been  ready  just  in  time. 


190 


LEGENDS  OF   THE   RHINE. 


WERLAU. 


trbc 


.ii3cunivlvD  t\hmc 


Dagobert,  the  ancient  and  renowned  Merovingian  king, 
was  said  to  derive  his  almost  fabulous  wealth  from  a  very 
productive  silver  mine,  situated  in  the  mountains  back  of 
Werlau.  All  at  once,  however,  the  revenue  from  the  mine 
ceased,  and  the  directors  reported  that  the  work  could  not 
be  continued,  as  invisible  hands  caught  and  cruelly  buffeted 
any  man  who  attempted  to  go  down  the  shaft. 

Seized  by  superstitious  dread,  the  miners  finally  refused 
to  make  any  further  attempt  to  descend,  and  Dagobert, 
finding  his  coffers  empty,  resolved  to  visit  Werlau,  and  see 
what  could  be  done  to  induce  the  miners  to  resume  their 
wonted  labors.  Accompanied  by  St.  Eloi,  his  prime  minister, 
his  fair  daughter  Beatrix,  and  a  goodly  retinue,  the  king  rode 
out  of  Andernach  and  soon  came  to  Werlau.  There  the 
royal  cavalcade  was  joined  by  a  handsome  youth,  who 
declared  he  too  would  fain  visit  the  mine,  but  whose  chief 
interest  seemed  to  be  centered  on  the  fair  princess. 

Dagobert,  arriving  at  the  shaft,  dismounted,  and  would 
have  descended  himself,  had  not  his  courtiers  restrained 
him,  and  his  daughter  implored  him  to  desist.  His  proffers 
of  reward  to  the  man  who  would  venture  down  into  the 
mine  were  not  taken  up.  He  was  about  to  try  some 
other  means,  when  the  stranger  suddenly  sprang  for- 
ward, volunteering  to  descend,  not  to  obtain  the  reward, 
but  to  please  the  fair  princess  who  seemed  so  anxious  about 
her  father.  A  moment  later  he  had  sprung  into  the  bucket, 
and  was  rapidly  lowered  into  the  shaft,  but  although  the 
spectators  watched  eagerly  for  any  signs  or  sounds,  they 
heard  and  saw  nothing,  and  the  youth  did  not  reappear. 
When  half  an  hour  had  elapsed  and  the  bucket  came  up 
empty,  one  of  the  courtiers  declared  the  youth  must  be 
dead,  and  at  these  words  the  princess  fainted  away. 


WERLA  U, 


191 


While  all  were  bending  over  her,  trying  to  restore  her, 
a  littie  dwarf  appeared  in  their  midst,  and  touched  the 
princess,  who  immediately  opened  her  eyes. 

Before  he  could  vanish,  the  king  seized  him  and  inquired 
what  he  wanted,  and  as  he  refused  to  answer,  ordered  him 
flung  headlong  into  the  shaft  of  the  mine.  The  men  were 
about  to  carry  out  this  order,  when  Beatrix,  falling  upon  her 
knees  before  the  king,  interceded  so  eloquently  for  the  little 
creature's  life  that  it  was  granted  to  her. 

As  soon  as  the  gnome  was  released  he  vowed  that  the 
princess  should  never  repent  having  helped  him,  snatched 
the  golden  necklace  from  her  neck,  and  springing  into  the 
empty  bucket,  dropped  down  the  shaft  like  a  stone.  The 
people,  in  breathless  wonder,  were  still  gazing  at  the  shaft 
where  he  had  disappeared,  when  they  suddenly  saw  the 
bucket  reappear,  and  in  it  lay  the  gallant  youth,  bound  and 
unconscious. 

Dagobert  gave  orders  that  he  should  be  lifted  out  and 
released,  and,  as  he  still  gave  no  signs  of  returning  conscious- 
ness, had  him  carried  into  the  royal  tent.  There  Beatrix, 
bending  solicitously  over  him,  discovered  that  he  wore  her 
necklace,  over  which  his  fingers  were  so  convulsively  clasped 
that  she  could  not  remove  it.  All  day  long  she  watched 
over  him,  and  when  night  came  on,  and  she  was  left  alone 
with  him,  the  gnome  appeared  before  her,  telling  her  he 
could  restore  the  youth  to  life  providing  someone  were 
willing  to  die  to  save  him. 

As  Beatrix  heard  these  words,  she  realized  for  the  first 
time  that  she  loved  the  unconscious  youth  dearly  enough  to 
die  for  him,  and  straightway  informed  the  gnome  of  the  fact. 
To  test  the  truth  of  her  assertion,  which  he  appeared  to 
doubt,  the  dwarf  produced  two  delicate  little  flowers,  which 
he  told  her  bloomed  simultaneously,  with  the  birth  of  a  new 
love.  He  laid  one  on  her  breast,  saying  that  if  her  love  were 
pure,  the  flower  would  fall  into  ashes  at  her  seventh  heart- 
beat. 


192 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE, 


Fearlessly  Beatrix  submitted  to  the  test,  and  at  the  sev- 
enth  heartbeat  the  flowers  fell  into  ashes  and  she  'dropped 

asleep. 

As  in  a  trance,  however,  she  saw  the  gnome  take  the  sec- 
ond flower  and  lay  it  on  the  youth's  breast,  where  it  also  fell 
into  ashes,  touch  his  eyes  with  them,  and  recall  him  to  life. 
The  dwarf  then  vanished,  and  the  doctors  entering  just 
then,  awakened  Beatrix  and  announced  that  her  patient  was 
restored  to  consciousness  and  perfectly  well  once  more. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  youth,  wandering  alone  in 
the  forest,  met  the  tiny  dwarf,  who  promised  to  help  him 
secure  the  princess'  hand  in  marriage  if  he  would  only  act 
a  passive  part.  A  moment  later  the  youth  saw  a  royal  train 
appear.  An  old  servant  paused  before  him,  called  him  duke, 
bade  him  mount,  and  led  him  back  to  Dagobert's  court, 
where  he  announced  .him  as  the  young  Duke  of  Suabia,  who 
had  come  to  marry  Beatrix. 

Dagobert,  pleased  with  this  alliance,  immediately  gave 
orders  that  all  should  be  prepared  for  a  speedy  marriage. 
All  would  have  taken  place  as  the  dwarf  had  planned,  had 
not  the  youth  been  too  honest  to  take  advantage  of  the 
king's  credulity  and  revealed  the  fraud. 

Incensed  at  his  presumption,  Dagob^srt  now  ordered  that 
the  stranger  should  be  beheaded  early  the  next  day,  and  all 
Beatrix'  tears  and  entreaties  could  not  move  him.  In  de- 
spair the  princess  then  rushed  off  to  the  shaft,  and  called 
aloud  for  the  friendly  gnome,  whose  help  she  implored, 
bathing  his  hands  with  tears. 

These  drops  were  immediately  changed  into  sparkling 
jewels,  and  the  gnome  joyfully  exclaimed:  **  Fair  Princess, 
weep  no  more.  I  will  save  your  beloved,  for  you  have 
released  me  from  a  cruel  spell,  which  banished  me  from  my 
kingdom  until  I  could  p-oduce  the  priceless  gems  which 

I  now  hold." 

The  gnome  then  explained  to  the  princess  that  in  his  rage 
at  being  exiled  he  had  cursed  the  mine,  but  that  he  would 


ST,  GOAR. 


193 


remove   the  curse  if  she   were  given  in  marriage  to  the 
youth. 

These  tidings,  skillfully  conveyed  to  Dagobert,  made  him 
consent  to  the  marriage,  which  was  celebrated  on  the 
morrow  with  all  due  pomp.  After  the  festivities  were 
ended,  the  miners  returned  unmolested  to  their  work,  and 
continued  to  dig  silver  enough  to  supply  the  king  with  all 
the  money  he  needed  for  many  a  year. 


ST.  GOAR. 
Aitaclee  and  Sbcine* 

The  little  town  of  St.  Goar  is  situated  on  the  very  spot 
once  occupied  by  the  hermitage  of  the  saint  whose  name  it 
bears.  This  holy  man  came  thither  as  a  missionary,  and 
took  up  his  abode  near  the  whirlpool  and  sandbank,  intend- 
ing not  only  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  barbarians,  but  also 
to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  all  those  who  came  to  grief  on  their 
way  either  up  or  down  the  river. 

As  he  rescued  them  from  danger,  he  invariably  inquired 
whether  they  were  Christians  or  heathens.  If  they  denied 
the  Redeemer  he  plunged  them  back  into  the  tide,  holding 
them  under  the  water  until  they  changed  their  faith.  Then, 
having  forcibly  baptized  them,  he  bore  them  off  to  his  cell 
and  duly  fed  and  dried  them. 

The  rumor  of  St.  Goar's  good  works  finally  came  to  the 
ears  of  the  Austrasian  Prince  Sigebert,  who  summoned  him 
to  court,  and  offered  him  the  bishopric  of  Treves.  But  the 
good  man  humbly  refused  this  honor.  To  amuse  the  king, 
and  show  him  that  he  had  won  God's  approval,  he  hung  his 
mantle  on  a  sunbeam  as  on  a  peg,  and  leaving  it  there  until 
he  was  ready  to  resume  it,  won  permission  to  hasten  back  to 
his  chosen  abode. 

After  founding  a  monastery  there,  and  attaining  extreme 


194  LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE. 

old  age,  St.  Goar  died  and  was  buried  in  the  monastery 
church.  There  his  tombstone  can  still  be  seen,  bearing  his 
name  and  the  date  of  his  decease,  which  occurred  in  6ii. 
His  tomb  very  soon  became  the  favorite  resort  of  the  lame, 
deaf,  and  blind,  who  were  perfectly  cured  after  a  pilgrimage 
to  his  shrine,  and  gradually  enriched  it  by  their  grateful 

offerings. 

This  saint  also  became  the  special  patron  of  the  Rhine 
boatmen,  who  were  sure  to  escape  all  danger,  providing 
they  paused  to  pray  at  his  shrine  on  their  way  up  and  down 
the  river.  If  they  failed  to  pay  him  the  customary  respect, 
however,  misfortune,  and  sometimes  shipwreck,  was  sure  to 

be  their  lot. 

Charlemagne,  on  his  way  from  Ingelheim  to  Cologne,  once 
passed  the  town  without  disembarking,  but  no  sooner  had 
he  done  so  than  a  terrible  storm  overtook  him,  threatening 
his  boat  with  destruction  and  greatly  alarming  the  boatmen, 
who  declared  they  had  grievously  offended  St.  Goar. 

The  emperor  hearing  this,  immediately  vowed  to  return 
and  pray  at  the  shrine,  so  the  storm  abated  as  suddenly  as 
it  had  arisen,  to  permit  him  to  keep  his  promise  without 
delay.  In  gratitude  for  this  narrow  escape,  Charlemagne 
gave  the  monastery  a  grant  of  land  and  a  butt  of  wine, 
which  the  saint  evidently  took  under  his  special  protection, 
for  it  was  soon  discovered  that  it  possessed  the  admirable 
property  of  always  remaining  full. 

Trusting  to  this  miracle,  the  cellarman  once  carelessly 
left  the  faucet  open,  thus  allowing  the  precious  wine  to 
escape.  St.  Goar,  who  was  evidently  very  thrifty,  must 
have  immediately  become  aware  of  this  oversight,  for  it  is 
said  he  sent  a  spider,  which  so  quickly  wove  a  thick  web 
across  the  opening  that  very  little  wine  was  lost. 

Charlemagne  also  gave  the  town  of  St.  Goar  the  famous 
silver  collar,  which  was  fastened  to  the  toll  house,  and 
which,  until  the  days  of  steam  navigation,  was  secured 
around  the  neck  of  every  boatman  and  traveler  on  his  first 


KA  TZENELLENBOCEN, 


195 


visit  to  the  place.  To  obtain  release  the  victim  was  obliged 
to  select  between  the  wine  and  water  baptism  offered  him. 
If  he  declared  his  preference  for  the  former,  he  was  set  free 
after  drinking  a  brimming  beaker  of  Rhine  wine»  but,  in 
case  he  selected  the  latter,  he  was  dismissed  onlv  after  a 
great  pailful  of  cold  water  had  been  emptied  over  his  head. 

Thanks  to  all  the  offerings  made  by  pilgrims  and  travelers, 
the  monastery  of  St.  Goar  soon  became  very  rich  indeed,  and 
on  sundry  occasions  this  excited  the  cupidity  of  the  bold 
robber  knights  of  the  Rhine,  who  ventured  to  attack  it  to 
secure  this  vast  wealth.  After  defending  the  convent  bravely 
on  one  occasion,  the  abbot,  seeing  he  would  soon  be  forced  to 
yield,  but  hoping  to  awe  the  assailants,  held  a  crucifix  up 
at  the  window,  loudly  commanding  the  assailants  to  forbear. 

His  commands  were  received  with  derision,  however,  and 
one  robber  knight,  drawing  his  cross-bow,  sent  an  arrow, 
which  pierced  the  image  on  the  cross.  To  the  amazement 
of  monks  and  soldiers,  who  were  horrified  at  this  sacrilege, 
the  blood  suddenly  began  to  flow  from  the  sacred  emblem. 

This  miracle  so  terrified  the  besiegers  that  they  fled  in 
haste,  and  never  dared  return,  while  the  monks  gave  hearty 
thanks  for  the  preservation  of  their  property  and  lives. 
The  robber  knight  who  had  shot  the  arrow  was  converted 
by  what  he  had  seen,  and  in  atonement  for  his  sins  he 
hastened  off  to  Palestine,  where  he  fought  bravely  and  fell 
gloriously  defending  the  Holy  Sepulcher  against  the 
Saracens. 


KATZENELLENBOGEN. 

The  castle  of  Katzenellenbogen,  which  is  generally  known 
as  the  Cat,  was  built  in  the  fourteenth  century.  It  was 
once  occupied  by  a  very  popular  lord  and  his  equally  un- 
popular wife,  who  was  greatly  disliked  on  account  of  her 
irascible  temper. 


196 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


Worn  out  by  her  constant  recriminations,  her  husband 
finally  obtained  a  divorce,  and  as  he  had  no  chiWren  to 
inherit  his  vast  possessions,  he  soon  married  again,  choosing 
this  time  a  lady  as  lovable,  gentle,  and  good  as  she  was 
pretty.  In  the  course  of  his  wedding  journey  he  led  his 
bride  to  his  castle  of  Rheinfels,  where  a  priest,  hired  by  his 
divorced  wife  to  kill  her  hated  rival,  administered  a  subtle 
poison  to  her  in  the  communion  cup. 

The  countess,  noticing  the  powder  on  the  wine,  called  the 
priest's  attention  to  it,  but  he  bade  her  drink  without  fear, 
as  it  was  nothing  but  a  little  dust  which  had  fallen  from  the 
ceiling.  The  young  bride  obeyed,  but  was  soon  seized  with 
convulsions,  and  although  she  did  not  die,  her  health  was 
permanently  impaired. 

Soon  after,  the  Count  of  Katzenellenbogen  also  became 
mysteriously  ill,  and  died,  leaving  all  his  possessions  to  the 
noble  house  of  Hesse,  for  he  had  no  direct  heir. 

The  priest's  crimes  were,  however,  eventually  discovered, 
and  after  a  public  ceremony,  in  which  all  the  emblems  of  his 
sacred  office  were  solemnly  taken  from  him,  he  was  deposed 
from  the  priestly  office,  and  hanged,  amid  the  loud  execra- 
tions of  the  assembled  people. 


THURNBERG. 


197 


THURNBERG. 
TTbe  1bal!!1te^  Caette. 

The  ruins  of  the  ancient  castle  of  Thurnberg  tower 
above  the  little  village  of  Welmich,  not  very  far  from  St. 
Goar.  This  castle  was  contemptuously  called  the  Mouse  by 
the  haughty  lords  of  Katzenellenbogen,  for  their  strong- 
hold was  known  as  the  Katze  (Cat),  and  they  openly  boasted 
far  and  wide  that  their  cat  would  soon  devour  the  mouse. 
But  for  all  their  boasting,  it  never  did  so,  and  the  little 
mouse  ever  kept  them  at  bay. 

Above   the  ruins  lurid  lights  are  often   seen  after  sunset. 


The  people  declare  they  are  the  reflections  of  the  fire  in 
which  a  former  owner,  an  unbeliever,  is  slowly  burning  in  the 
Infernal  Regions.  Tradition  further  relates  that,  irritated 
by  the  ringing  of  the  village  church  bell  beneath  him,  which 
on  Sunday  mornings  always  roused  him  from  his  prolonged 
nap,  this  arbitrary  nobleman  once  coolly  confiscated  it. 
When  the  priest  came  to  claim  it,  and  expostulated  about 
his  impious  conduct,  the  Lord  of  Thurnberg  had  the  bell 
bound  firmly  round  his  neck,  and  ordered  him  flung  into  a 
very  deep  well  in  his  courtyard. 

The  clang  of  the  bell  was  not  silenced,  however,  by  this 
crime,  for  the  deeper  it  fell  the  louder  it  pealed,  waking  all 
the  echoes  with  its  deafening  sound.  In  vain  the  lord  of  the 
castle  had  the  well  filled  up,  the  bell  rang  loudly  night  and 
day,  driving  him  mad  and  causing  him  to  die  at  last  of 
insomnia.  But  the  moment  he  had  breathed  his  last,  the 
bell  suddenly  ceased  ringing,  and  since  then  it  has  been 
heard  for  a  few  moments  only,  at  midnight,  on  the  i8th  of 
January,  the  anniversary  of  the  wicked  Lord  of  Thurnberg's 
death. 

The  ruins  are  further  said  to  be  haunted  also  by  a  lovely 
maiden,  all  dressed  in  white.  She  once  appeared  to  bring  a 
drink  to  a  young  nobleman,  who  had  thrown  himself  down 
near  the  ruins  to  rest  and  mockingly  called  for  a  beaker  of 
wine.  This  rash  youth,  who  had  thus  ventured  to  summon  a 
spirit  from  the  tomb,  was  sorely  punished,  for  he  fell  in  love 
with  the  lady,  and  remained  there,  pining  for  her  return  until 
he  died  from  inanition.  The  legend  tells,  however,  that  as 
he  passed  away,  she  appeared  once  more,  and  bending  to 
kiss  him,  claimed  him  for  her  own.  This  legend  resembles 
the  story  of  the  lady  of  Vindeck,  versified  by  Chamisso  and 
translated  by  Byrant,  and  which  ends  as  follows: 

**  And  ever  from  that  moment 
He  haunted  the  ruins  there, 
A  sleepless,  restless  wanderer, 
A  watcher  with  despair. 


lUO 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


**  Ghost-like  and  pale  he  wandered. 
With  a  dreamy,  haggard  eye ; 
He  seemed  not  one  of  the  living. 
And  yet  he  could  not  die. 

Tis  said  that  the  lady  met  him 
When  many  years  had  passed, 
Ai^i,  kissinLi;  his  lips,  released  him 
From  the  burden  of  life  at  last." 


(( > 


REICHENBERG. 

Frederick  Barbarossa,  emperor  of  Germany,  was  the 
owner  of  a  magnificent,  fiery  red  beard.  This  the  devil 
coveted  sorely,  as  he  fancied  such  an  ornament  would  be 
particularly  becoming  to  a  gentleman  of  his  complexion, 
and  delicately  suggestive  of  his  avocation. 

As  he  could  grow  no  beard  of  his  own,  he  finally  resolved 
to  steal  the  emperor's,  and  as  he  did  not  understand  the  art 
of  shaving,  he  proceeded  to  the  little  town  of  Bacharach, 
and  engaged  the  service  of  one  of  the  numerous  barbers 
living  there.  It  was  duly  agreed  between  them  that,  for  a 
certain  consideration,  the  barber  would  shave  off  the  impe- 
rial beard,  providing  Satan  conveyed  him  safely  to  and  from 
the  palace,  and  caused  such  a  deep  sleep  to  fall  upon  the 
victim  that  he  would  never  discover  the  delinquent. 

A  Wisperthal  fairy,  overhearing  this  plot,  and  knowing 
that  Frederick  would  visit  the  town  a  few  days  later,  wished 
to  protect  him,  for  he  had  once  done  her  a  good  turn.  So 
she  went  in  search  of  a  giant,  and  coaxed  him  to  lend  her 
his  great  bag.  The  giant,  seeing  her  diminutive  size,  and 
fearing  lest  she  should  be  crushed  by  the  sack's  weight, 
gallantly  offered  to  carry  it  for  her  wherever  she  wished,  and 
walking  beside  her  came  to  the  entrance  of  Bacharach,  just 
as  the  town   clocks  were  striking  twelve.     The  fairy  bade 


LORELEI, 


199 


him  sit  down  on  a  stone  and  await  her  return,  then  cleverly 
caught  all  the  barbers  while  they  were  asleep,  and  without 
waking  them,  spirited  them  into  the  bag,  which  she  then 
fastened  securely. 

She  next  awoke  the  giant,  who  had  fallen  into  a  doze,  and 
bade  him  carry  the  bag  far  away,  and  dump  its  contents 
into  the  river  at  early  dawn.  Good-naturedly,  the  giant 
shouldered  his  burden  and  tramped  off.  The  barbers, 
awakened  by  the  jolting,  kicked  and  struggled  to  get  out, 
frightening  their  bearer  to  such  an  extent  that  he  began  to 
run,  and  with  one  leap  cleared  the  castle  of  Reichenberg. 
At  that  selfsame  moment  one  of  the  barbers,  quicker-witted 
than  the  rest,  ripped  open  the  bag  with  his  sharp  razor,  and 
he  and  his  companions  rolled  down  into  the  castle  moat, 
where  they  were  all  drowned. 

Frederick  Barbarossa  came  to  Bacharach  on  the  morrow, 
but  the  devil  failed  to  secure  his  fiery  red  beard,  for  there 
was  not  a  single  barber  left  in  town  to  do  his  bidding. 


LORELEI. 


The  bed  of  the  Rhine  grows  suddenly  narrow  and  almost 
fathomless  after  St.  Goar,  while  great  masses  of  rock  shut 
out  the  pleasant  light  of  the  sun.  On  the  right  bank,  a 
huge  basaltic  cliff  towers  above  the  Rhine.  This  is  the 
famous  Loreleiberg,  noted  for  its  magnificent  prospect  and 
sevenfold  echo,  no  less  than  for  the  numerous  romantic 
legends  connected  with  it. 

A  maiden  of  wondrous  beauty,  called  Lorelei,  dwelt  at 
Bacharach  on  the  Rhine,  in  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh 
century.  Suitors  without  end  came  to  woo  her,  and  as  she 
was  as  tender-hearted  as  she  was  beautiful,  she  regretfully 
saw   the  misery  her  loveliness  inflicted,  and  would  gladly 


200 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHmE, 


have  consented  to  lose  all  her  charms  could  she  have  sav,ed 
anyone  from  pain. 

Ill-natured  people,  however,  vowed  that  she  was  quite 
heartless,  a  statement  which  was  soon  refuted  by  her  ac- 
ceptance of  and  response  to  the  suit  of  a  handsome  young 
knight  of  the  neighborhood.  As  the  young  people  had 
always  met  in  secret,'  no  one  at  first  knew  of  their  love,  but 
a  short  time  after  they  were  betrothed  the  knight  went  of] 
to  war,  declaring  he  would  win  honor  and  glory  before  he 
claimed  the  beautiful  Lorelei  as  his  bride.  Vainly  she  en- 
treated him  to  remain  by  her  side;  vainly  she  pictured  the 
dangers  and  possible  death  which  awaited  him,  he  refused  to 
listen  to  aught  but  the  promptings  of  his  ambition  and 
departed. 

Lorelei,  bathed  in  tears,  and  oppressed  by  nameless 
fears,  no  longer  took  any  pleasure  in  life.  In  spite  of 
her  openly  announced  engagement,  new  suitors  constantly 
crowded  around  her,  trying  to  win  her  from  her  allegiance 
to  her  absent  lover.  But,  although  no  tidings  of  the  rover 
reached  her,  and  she  feared  he  had  either  perished  or  turned 
faithless,  Lorelei  still  refused  to  console  herself  with  the 
love  of  another.  Every  day  some  new  suitor  appeared,  and 
every  day  the  village  gossips  whispered  that  some  rejected 
lover  had  drowned  himself  in  the  Rhine,  pined  to  death,  or 
left  the  country  to  find  an  honorable  end  on  the  battlefield. 
Only  a  few  youths  were  now  left  in  the  country,  and  every 
one  knew  they  were  well  and  happy  only  because  they  had 
never  seen  the  beautiful  Lorelei,  and  that  as  soon  as  their 
eyes  rested  upon  her  they  too  would  fall  victims  to  her 
charms.  Mothers  with  marriageable  daughters  were  spe- 
cially anxious  to  get  rid  of  Lorelei,  and,  little  by  little,  spread 
the  dark  report  that  it  was  not  only  the  maiden's  beauty 
which  won  the  hearts  of  men,  but  her  magic  arts,  spells,  and 
incantations.  The  rumor,  as  rumors  will,  spread  so  rapidly 
that  Lorelei  was  finally  summoned  to  appear  before  the 
criminal   court  of  the  archbishop   of  Cologne. 


LORELEI, 


20I 


There,  in  spite  of  all  accusations  made  by  virulent  gossips, 
judge  and  jury  alike  agreed  that  such  a  beautiful,  innocent 
face  could  not  belong  to  a  guilty  person,  and  acquitted  her. 
Lorelei,  feeling  that  life  had  no  charms  for  her,  and  weary 
of  persecution,  now  flung  herself  at  the  archbishop's  feet 
crying  : 

**  I'm  not  a  witch,  but  let  me  die.  I'm  so  unhappy.  My 
lover  has  forsaken  me,  and  his  silence  has  lasted  so  long 
that  I  am  sure  he  is  either  faithless  or  dead.  Life  is  a 
burden  to  me,  for  the  young  men  of  the  neighborhood 
constantly  annoy  me  by  pleading  for  a  love  which  I  cannot 
give,  as  my  heart  is  in  my  lover's  keeping.     Let  me  die  !" 

The  aged  prelate  kindly  raised  the  tearful  supplicant  and 
said  : 

**My  child,  I  see  no  cause  to  credit  the  accusations 
brought  against  you  of  practicing  magic  arts,  but  perceive 
only  too  plainly  the  natural  charms  which  have  done  so 
much  harm.  I  cannot  let  you  die  ;  but,  if  you  wish  to 
mourn  in  peace,  you  may  enter  a  convent,  where  none  will 
ever  again  molest  you." 

Lorelei  accepted  this  proposal  with  joy.  Two  old  knights 
were  summoned  to  escort  her  to  her  future  home,  and  the 
little  cavalcade  wended  its  way  along  the  Rhine,  and  crossed 
it  at  St.  Goar.  Soon  after  they  drew  near  a  huge  mass  of 
basaltic  rock,  which  Lorelei  expressed  a  desire  to  climb, 
that  she  might  from  thence  view  her  home  once  more. 

The  old  knights  immediately  acceded  to  this  innocent 
recjuest,  and  the  maiden,  bounding  lightly  ahead,  climbed 
until  she  reached  the  highest  point  and  stood  directly 
above  the  dark  stream.  Her  tearful  eyes  rested  for  a 
moment  upon  her  native  town,' then  upon  the  towers  of  her 
lover's  home,  and  lastly  fell  upon  a  bark  slowly  floating  down 
the  stream.  At  the  sight  of  a  mailed  figure  standing  at  the 
helm,  she  suddenly  uttered  a  loud  cry  of  joy,  for  she  recog- 
nized the  lover  whom  she  had  long  believed  dead.  Her 
sudden  exclamation,  rousing  the  echoes,  attracted  the  atten- 


202 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


tion  of  the  knight,  who,  still   faithful,  forgot  all  else  at  the 
sight  of  his  beloved  standing  far  above  him  with  outstretched 

arms. 

The  little  boat,  no  longer  guided  by  the  helm,  was  seized 
by  the  current,  whirled  against  the  dangerous  rock,  and 
dashed  to  pieces.  Lorelei,  seeing  her  lover's  danger,  made 
an  impetuous  motion,  as  if  to  save  him,  lost  her  balance,  and 
fell  over  the  precipice  into  the  Rhine,  where  she  perished  by 
his  side,  at  the  foot  of  the  rock  which  still  bears  her  name. 


CTe  ifigberman. 

Another  tradition  of  the  Lorelei  which,  although  equally 
tragical,  differs  widely  in  many  points  from  the  first,  has 
inspired    Heine's   immortal   song,  and   is  generally  told  as 

follows  : 

Long  years  ago,  whenever  the  moonlight  flooded  moun- 
tains and  river,  a  beautiful  maiden  was  seen  seated  upon 
the  top  of  the  Lorelei  rock.  There  she  sang  sweet  and 
entrancing  melodies,  while  she  combed  her  long  golden  hair 
with  a  jeweled  comb,  her  pure  white  draperies  fluttering  in 
the  night  winds  as  she  made  her  toilet  under  the  blue  vault 
of  heaven  and  by  the  witching  light  of  the  moon. 

**  And  yonder  sits  a  maiden, 

The  fairest  of  the  fair  ; 
With  gold  in  her  garment  glittering, 

And  she  combs  the  golden  hair  : 
With  a  golden  comb  she  combs  it ; 

And  a  wild  song  singeth  she, 

That  meets  the  heart  with  a  wondrous 

And  powerful  melody." 

— Heine. 

This  fair  creature,  whom  all  called  Lorelei,  was  an  im- 
mortal, a  water  nymph,  daughter  of  old  Father  Rhine. 
During  the  day  she  lingered  in  the  cool  depths  of  the  river 
bed,  but  late  at  night  she  sat  aloft  where  travelers  and  boat- 


O 
r 

C 

n 


202 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE, 


tion  of  the  knight,  who,  still  faithful,  forgot  all  else  at  the 
sight  of  his  beloved  standing  far  above  him  with  outstretched 

arms. 

The  little  boat,  no  longer  guided  by  the  helm,  was  seized 
by  the  current,  whirled  against  the  dangerous  rock,  and 
dashed  to  pieces.  Lorelei,  seeing  her  lover's  danger,  made 
an  impetuous  motion,  as  if  to  save  him,  lost  her  balance,  and 
fell  over  the  precipice  into  the  Rhine,  where  she  perished  by 
his  side,  at  the  foot  of  the  rock  which  still  bears  her  name. 


Wdz  ifigberman. 

Another  tradition  of  the  Lorelei  which,  although  equally 
tragical,  differs  widely  in  many  points  from  the  first,  has 
inspired    Heine's   immortal   song,  and   is  generally  told  as 

follows  : 

Long  years  ago,  whenever  the  moonlight  flooded  moun- 
tains and  river,  a  beautiful  maiden  was  seen  seated  upon 
the  top  of  the  Lorelei  rock.  There  she  sang  sweet  and 
entrancing  melodies,  while  she  combed  her  long  golden  hair 
with  a  jeweled  comb,  her  pure  white  draperies  fluttering  in 
the  night  winds  as  she  made  her  toilet  under  the  blue  vault 
of  heaven  and  by  the  witching  light  of  the  moon. 

**  And  yonder  sits  a  maiden, 

The  fairest  of  the  fair  ; 
With  gold  in  her  garment  glittering, 

And  she  combs  the  golden  hair  : 
With  a  golden  comb  she  combs  it  ; 

And  a  wild  song  singeth  she, 

That  meets  the  heart  with  a  wondrous 

And  powerful  melody." 

— Heine. 

This  fair  creature,  whom  all  called  Lorelei,  was  an  im- 
mortal, a  water  nymph,  daughter  of  old  Father  Rhine. 
During  the  day  she  lingered  in  the  cool  depths  of  the  river 
bed,  but  late  at  night  she  sat  aloft  where  travelers  and  boat- 


r 

c 

r 

PC 

C 

n 


LORELEI. 


203 


men  could  easily  see  her.  But  woe  unto  them  if  the  even- 
ing breeze  wafted  the  notes  of  her  song  to  their  ears,  for 
the  entrancing  melody  made  them  forget  time  and  place, 
until  their  vessels,  no  longer  guided  along  the  dangerous 
pass,  were  whirled  against  the  rocks,  where  they  were 
dashed  to  pieces,  and  all  on  board  perished.  One  person 
only  is  said  to  have  been  favored  with  a  near  view  of  the 
charming  Lorelei,  a  handsome  young  fisherman  from  Ober- 
wesel,  who  climbed  the  rocks  every  evening  to  spend  a  few 
delightful  hours,  his  head  pillowed  in  the  nymph's  lap,  his 
eyes  drinking  in  her  beauty,  while  his  ears  were  charmed  by 
the  melody  of  her  song. 

Tradition  further  relates  that  ere  they  parted  the  Lorelei 
Invariably  pointed  out  the  places  where  he  was  to  cast  his 
nets  on  the  morrow,  and  as  he  always  implicitly  carried 
out  her  instructions  he  never  came  home  with  an  empty 
creel. 

One  moonlight  night  the  fisherman  was  seen  as  usual 
boldly  scaling  the  rocks  to  keep  his  tryst,  but  he  never 
came  down  the  cliff  again.  The  river  was  dragged,  the 
rock  was  searched,  but  no  trace  of  him  was  found,  so  the 
peasants  of  the  neighorhood  invariably  declare  that  Lorelei 
dragged  him  down  into  her  crystal  palace  beneath  the  flood 
to  enjoy  his  society  undisturbed  forever.* 


B  ^aaic  SpcU.      . 

Count  Ludwig,  the  only  son  of  the  Prince  Palatine,  once 
left  his  father's  castle  at  Stahleck  to  sail  down  the  Rhine, 
hoping  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  Siren  Lorelei,  of  whom  he 
had  often  heard  such  marvelous  tales.  It  was  evening — the 
stars  were  twinkling  softly  overhead,  and  the  bark  slowly 
drifted  down  the  river.  Darker  and  darker  grew  the  waters 
as  the  bed  of  the  Rhine  grew  narrower,  but  the  young  count 

*  Sec  "  Myths  of  Northern  Lands,"  by  the  author. 


204 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


paid  no  heed  to  that;  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  rocks  far 
above,  where  he  hoped  to  see  the  beautiful  nymph. 

Suddenly  he  perceived  a  glimmer  of  white  drapery  and 
golden  hair,  and  heard  the  faint,  sweet  sound  of  an  alluring 
song.  As  he  drew  nearer,  the  melody  became  more  dis- 
tinct, and  the  moonbeams,  falling  upon  the  maiden,  seemed 
to  enhance  her  marvelous  beauty,  as  she  bent  over  the 
rocky  ledge  beckoning  to  him  to  draw  near.  The  count 
and  boatmen,  spellbound  by  the  vision  above  them,  paid  no 
heed  to  their  vessel,  which,  striking  suddenly  against  the 
rocks,  sunk  with  all  on  board,  one  man  only  escaping  to  tell 
of  the  young  count's  cruel  fate. 

The  bereaved  father,  thirsting  for  revenge,  issued  immedi- 
ate orders  for  the  capture  of  the  siren  who  had  caused  so 
much  woe,  and  a  few  tried  ^Y^rriors  set  out  at  the  head  of  an 
armed  band,  which  they  posted  all  around  the  rock,  with 
strict  orders  not  to  let  the  nymph  escape. 

Then,  climbing  noiselessly  up  the  moonlit  cliff,  the  cap- 
tain and  three  of  his  men  suddenly  presented  themselves 
before  the  matchless  Lorelei.  She  was,  as  usual,  combing  her 
hair  and  crooning  her  song.  The  men  hemmed  her  in  so 
securely  that  no  mode  of  escape  remained  except  by  the  pre- 
cipitous descent  to  the  river.  Then  they  loudly  bade  her 
surrender.  Quite  unmoved,  however,  the  nymph  gracefully 
waved  her  white  hands,  and  the  grim  old  warriors  suddenly 
felt  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  were  utterly  incapable  of 
moving  hand  or  foot  or  of  uttering  the  slightest  sound. 

With  dilated  eyes  fixed  upon  the  Lorelei,  they  saw  her 
divest  herself  of  her  jewels,  which  she  dropped  one  by  one 
into  the  Rhine  at  her  feet,  then  whirl  about  in  mystic  dance, 
muttering  some  strange  spell,  wherein  they  could  only  dis- 
tinguish some  words  about  white-maned  steeds  and  pearl 
shell  chariots.  When  dance  and  song  were  ended,  the  waters 
of  the  Rhine  suddenly  began  to  bubble  and  seethe,  and  rose 
higher  and  higher,  until  they  reached  the  top  of  the  cliff,  and 
the  petrified  warriors  felt  the  cold  tide  surge  about  their 


LORELEI. 


205 


feet.  Suddenly  they  saw  a  great  white-crested  wave  rolling 
rapidly  toward  them,  and  in  its  green  depths  they  beheld  a 
chariot,  drawn  by  white-maned  steeds.  Lorelei  sprang  into 
this  car,  and  quickly  vanished  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  into 
the  river. 

A  few  moments  later  the  angry  waters  had  subsided  to 
their  wonted  level,  the  men  recovered  the  power  of  motion, 
and,  when  they  bent  down  over  the  cliff,  no  trace  of  the 
sudden  rise  could  be  seen,  except  the  water  drops  along  the 
face  of  the  cliff,  shining  in   the    moonlight  like  diamonds. 

The  next  morning  Count  Ludwig's  body  was  found  washed 
ashore  near  the  Pfalz,  ''  whither  it  had  come  contrary  to  the 
course  of  the  current,"  doubtless  borne  thither  by  the 
Lorelei,  who  has  never  since  then  reappeared  on  the  cliff, 
although  boatmen  and  belated  travelers  have  often  heard  the 
faint  sweet  echo  of  her  alluring  song,  wafted  toward  them 
on  the  summer  breeze  at  midnight. 


XSbc  Devil'd  f  mprfnt 

The  Devil  one  day  made  up  his  mind  to  take  a  trip  along 
the  Rhine,  and,  to  be  fashionable,  he  thought  he  would  go 
up,  rather  than  down  the  stream.  He  enjoyed  his  journey 
pretty  well  until  he  came  to  the  great  rock,  which  barred 
the  course  of  the  river,  causing  it  to  make  a  sudden  bend, 
and  seeing  that  the  cliff  impressed  strangers,  and  made 
them  marvel  at  the  power  of  God,  he  angrily  resolved  to 
move  it  away. 

The  Devil  had  just  sunk  his  claws  into  the  stone,  and  was 
about  to  lift  and  throw  it  aside,  when  the  Lorelei's  marvel- 
ous tone  fell  upon  his  ear.  While  leaning  spellbound  against 
the  stone,  he  heard  her  sing  of  deathless  love,  of  the  charms 
of  her  crystal  palace,  of  rippling  waves  and  silvery  moonlight, 
and,  realizing  that  they  all  helped  to  make  the  charm  of  the 
spot  complete,   he  relinquished  his  plan  of   removing  the 


2o6 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


rock,  and  hastened  away.  His  red-hot  body  had,  however, 
softened  the  stone  against  which  he  leaned,  and  ever  since 
then  the  fishermen  have  pointed  out  his  effigy  in  the  rock 
when  they  relate  his  attempt  to  remove  it. 


OBERWESEL. 

TOe  Xittle  /ISatt^t. 

In  the  thirteenth  century,  one  of  the  burghers  of  the  little 
town  of  Oberwesel  incurred  the  wrath  of  a  wicked  old 
woman,  who  in  revenge  stole  his  only  son  and  sold  him  to 
the  Jews.  This  people  had  endured  so  many  cruel  perse- 
cutions at  the  Christians'  hands,  that  they  were  much 
embittered,  and  now  sought  to  avenge  themselves  by  merci- 
lessly torturing  the  innocent  little  lad. 

But  in  spite  of  all  persecutions,  the  brave  child  persistently 
refused  to  deny  Christ,  and  patiently  allowed  himself  to  be 
scourged  and  finally  crucified.  When  he  was  quite  dead 
and  they  could  no  longer  torture  him,  the  Jews  cast  his 
corpse  into  the  river,  where  early  the  next  morning  a 
fisherman  found  it,  the  little  dead  hand  pointing  fixedly  up 
the  river,  and  the  body  remaining  motionless  in  spite  of  the 
strong  current. 

Frightened  by  this  phenomenon,  the  fisherman  hastened  to 
summon  all  his  companions,  and  while  they  were  all  gazing 
upon  the  poor  little  mutilated  corpse,  it  began  to  move 
slowly  up  the  river.  It  finally  ran  ashore  at  the  very  feet  of 
the  wicked  old  woman,  who  had  come  to  see  what  was  the 
cause  of  the  general  excitement.  As  the  little  dead  hand 
pointed  fixedly  at  her,  she  was  suddenly  seized  by  remorse, 
and  with  many  tears  confessed  how  she  had  kidnapped  him 
and  sold  him  to  the  Jews.  The  marks  on  the  child's  body 
revealed  only  too  plainly  all  he  had  endured,  so  the  people 
of  Oberwesel,  wishing  to  discover  the  real  perpetrators  of 


schOnberg. 


207 


the  crime,  forced  all  the  Israelites  to  appear  and  lay  their 
hands  upon  the  corpse.  At  the  mere  contact  of  one  of  the 
criminals'  hands  the  wounds  began  to  bleed  afresh,  and  the 
guilty  men,  after  confessing  all  their  cruelty,  were  imme- 
diately sentenced  to  death  and  summarily  hung.* 

As  for  the  poor  child,  whose  name  was  Werner,  he  was  duly 
canonized  for  his  faith  and  martyrdom,  and  a  church  was 
erected  at  Bacharach  over  his  remains.  In  this  building 
the  people  have  carefully  preserved  the  pillar  to  which  he 
was  bound  when  scourged,  ere  the  Jews  finally  put  him  to 
death,  in  the  same  manner  as  they  had  slain  his  Redeemer 
so  many  years  before. 


SCHONBERG. 
^be  Seven  Sietera. 

In  the  castle  of  Schonberg,  whose  ruins  tower  above  the 
little  town  of  Oberwesel,  there  once  dwelt  seven  beautiful 
girls.  They  were  sisters,  and  as  they  had  no  living  relatives 
they  exercised  full  control  over  their  persons,  lands,  and 
fortunes. 

As  these  young  ladies  were  so  very  attractive,  they  were 
wooed  by  knights  of  every  degree,  but  although  they  de- 
lighted in  receiving  attention,  they  would  never  consent  to 
bind  themselves  by  any  vows.  They  favored  a  suitor  for  a 
short  time,  merely  for  the  pleasure  of  watching  his  impotent 
wrath  when  discarded  to  make  room  for  a  rival.  One  knight 
after  another  thus  left  the  castle  in  despair,  but  for  one  who 
departed  discouraged,  two  arrived  full  of  hope,  confident  in 
their  powers  to  please  and  hold  the  capricious  fair.  One 
day  a  Minnesinger  arrived  at  Schonberg,  and  fell  desperately 
in  love  with  Adelgunde,  the  youngest  sister,  for  whom  he 
composed  his  sweetest  lays,  which  he  sang  to  his  own 
accompaniment   on  the  guitar.     Day  after  day  the  maiden 

♦  See  Note  14  in  Appendix. 


208 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


led  him  on,  making  him  believe  her  heart  was  all  his  own, 
but  in  reality  caring  nothing  for  him,  and  taking  mental 
note  of  all  his  passionate  speeches  merely  to  report  them  to 
her  sisters  and  make  fun  of  the  enamored  youth. 

Anxious  to  witness  one  of  the  love  scenes  she  described 
so  vividly,  the  six  other  sisters  once  concealed  themselves 
in  various  parts  of  the  apartment,  leaving  Adelgunde  appar- 
ently alone.  A  few  moments  later  the  Minnesinger  appeared, 
and,  finding  his  lady  love  alone,  fell  upon  his  knees  before 
her  and  eloquently  declared  his  love. 

While  he  was  still  in  this  position,  pleading  with  eager 
eyes  and  trembling  lips  for  the  love  he  had  a  right  to  think 
he  had  won,  the  sisters  simultaneously  rushed  out  of  their 
hiding  places.  They  then  all  began  to  mimic  him,  while 
Adelgunde,  whom  he  had  fancied  so  gentle,  noble,  and 
refined,  laughed  louder  than  all  the  rest  at  his  discomfiture. 

Enraged  at  this  heartless  treatment,  the  Minnesinger 
rushed  out  of  the  castle,  sprang  on  his  horse,  galloped  madly 
down  the  steep  hill,  and,  beside  himself  with  grief,  plunged 
into  the  Rhine.  There  tradition  relates  that  the  water 
nymphs  laid  him  on  a  soft  couch  in  their  crystal  palace, 
and  bade  him  confide  all  his  sorrows  to  their  queen,  the 
matchless  golden-haired  Lorelei. 

When  he  had  told  her  the  whole  story  of  his  love  and 
despair,  she  exclaimed:  **  Many  are  the  complaints  which 
have  reached  me  about  those  cold-hearted  maidens,  and  the 
just  punishment  for  their  crimes  will  soon  overtake  them. 
As  for  you,  sweet  minstrel,  sorrow  and  care  shall  never 
again  approach  your  poetic  soul.  Tune  your  guitar  and 
forget  you  were  once  unhappy." 

The  Lorelei  then  gently  waved  her  fairy  wand.  At  the 
same  moment  the  pain  in  the  Minnesinger's  heart  vanished, 
his  sorrows  were  forgotten,  his  eye  beamed  with  happiness, 
and  his  guitar  awoke  to  a  joyful  lay  beneath  the  touch  of  his 
inspired  fingers.  When  she  saw  him  happy  once  more,  with 
a  bliss  which  would  never  cease,  the  Lorelei  left  her  crystal 


GUTENFELS. 


209 


palace  and  went  in  search  of  the  cruel  ladies  of  Schonberg, 
whom  she  had  resolved  to  punish. 

It  was  evening,  one  of  those  matchless  summer  evenings 
along  the  Rhine,  and  the  sisters  were  idly  drifting  down  the 
stream,  talking  and  laughing  incessantly.  While  they  were 
as  usual  recounting  their  heartless  triumphs,  and  mimick- 
ing their  unfortunate  suitors,  the  Lorelei  suddenly  rose  out 
of  the  waves  before  them  and  solemnly  warned  them  their 
end  was  near. 

In  vain  the  frivolous  sisters  pleaded  for  mercy,  in  vain 
they  proffered  their  richest  gifts,  the  Lorelei  insisted  that  as 
they  had  shown  no  compassion  for  the  sufferings  of  others 
they  need  expect  no  reprieve,  and  while  she  was  still  speak- 
ing the  vessel  suddenly  sank  with  all  its  living  freight. 

On  the  morrow,  seven  rocks  rose  out  of  the  river  in  a  spot 
where  none  had  previously  stood,  and  the  superstitious 
peasants  aver  that  these  are  the  bodies  of  the  seven  sisters, 
which  have  become  as  hard  as  their  hearts,  and  that  on 
stormy  evenings  their  drowning  shrieks  still  rise  above 
the  sound  of  the  wind  and  waves. 


GUTENFELS. 

TCbe  Bmperot^a  Vllaofii0» 

Above  the  ancient  little  town  of  Caub  rises  the  castle  of 
Gutenfels,  which  was  occupied  in  the  middle  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  by  Philip,  count  of  Falkenstein,  and  his  only 
sister  Guda.  The  young  people,  who  were  orphans,  lived 
together  in  perfect  amity,  and  if  Philip  sometimes  urged 
his  sister  to  make  a  choice  among  her  numerous  suitors, 
it  was  only  because  he  was  very  anxious  to  secure  her 
happiness. 

On  one  occasion  the  brother  and  sister  attended  a  brilliant 
tournament  at  Cologne,  where  Guda's  beauty  attracted  the 


2IO 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


attention  of  a  strange  knight,  who  had  won  all  the  prizes. 
He  was  known  only  to  the  bishop,  who  vouched  for  his 
birth  and  general  good  character. 

The  stranger's  manners  and  address  were  so  polished,  his 
conversation  so  interesting,  and  his  pleasure  in  Lord  Falken- 
stein's  society  so  very  evident,  that  the  latter  invited  him  to 
visit  him  at  Gutenfels.  This  invitation  the  knight  gladly 
accepted,  as  soon  as  he  saw  that  his  presence  would  be 
welcome  to  Guda  also. 

Of  course  he  was  courteously  received  and  duly  enter- 
tained. Day  by  day  his  love  for  the  beautiful  young 
chatelaine  increased  and  he  often  said  he  would  fain  linger 
there  forever.  This  could  not  be,  however,  for  just  then 
all  Germany  was  in  a  turmoil.  Conrad  IV.  had  died  leav- 
ing no  heir,  and  the  throne  was  disputed  by  Adolf  of 
Holland,  Richard  of  Cornwall,  brother  of  the  English  king, 
Henry  IIL,  and  Alfonso  X.  of  Castile. 

The  seven  electors  supported  Richard,  and  as  most  of 
the  noblemen  followed  their  example,  Philip  of  Falkenstein 
soon  left  the  castle  of  Gutenfels  to  go  and  fight  in  his  behalf. 
His  guest  promised  to  follow  and  fight  by  his  side,  as  soon 
as  he  had  received  a  certain  message  for  which  he  had  been 

waiting. 

Two  days  later  the  message  came,  and  the  knight  took 
leave  of  Guda,  after  winning  her  promise  to  love  him  and 
await  his  return  without  making  any  attempt  to  learn  his 
name  or  station.  Left  alone  in  the  castle  of  Gutenfels, 
Guda  spent  hours  in  thinking  of  her  absent  lover  and  in 
longing  for  his  return,  but  when  the  war  was  ended  and  her 
brother  came  home  she  began  to  grow  anxious,  as  she  had 
received  no  tidings  from  the  strange  knight. 

A  few  weeks  of  suspense  robbed  her  of  all  her  pretty 
color,  and  she  withdrew  weeping  to  her  chamber,  for  she 
felt  sure  that  her  betrothed  was  dead.  She  did  not  even  wish 
to  be  present  when  the  new  emperor  arrived  at  the  castle 
as  he  had  sent  word  he  was  about  to  do. 


GUTENFELS, 


211 


Richard  of  Cornwall  had  no  sooner  entered  the  castle, 
however,  than  he  inquired  for  the  fair  chatelaine.  He  said 
that  he  had  often  heard  her  beauty  extolled  by  his  courtiers, 
and  that  his  purpose  was  to  sue  honorably  for  her  hand. 
Philip,  overjoyed  at  the  prospect  of  such  a  brilliant  marriage 
for  his  only  sister,  withdrew  to  lay  the  emperor's  proposal 
before  her,  after  again  vainly  entreating  his  imperial  guest 
to  lay  aside  the  heavy  armor  which  he  wore,  or  at  least 
to  raise  his  vizor. 

In  a  very  short  time  he  returned.  In  stammering  accents 
and  greatly  embarrassed,  he  now  replied  that  his  sister  could 
not  accept  the  monarch's  proposal,  as  she  had  already 
plighted  her  troth  to  some  man,  whom,  until  then,  she  had 
obstinately  refused  to  name. 

The  emperor  calmly  listened  to  these  excuses,  and,  when 
they  were  ended,  bade  Philip  lead  him  into  the  presence  of 
the  lady,  that  he  might  press  his  suit  in  person,  and,  if 
possible,  obtain  a  more  favorable  reply.  With  lowered  vizor, 
and  in  mufifled  tones,  he  inquired  of  the  trembling  Guda  why 
she  refused  to  forget  a  lover  who  was  either  dead  or  faith- 
less. The  maiden  replied  that  she  would  remain  true  to  her 
lover,  living  or  dead,  and  again  refused  the  proffered  crown. 
Then  the  emperor  suddenly  threw  up  his  vizor,  clasped  her 
in  his  arms,  and  rapturously  claimed  her  as  his  bride. 

Guda  immediately  recognized  her  lover,  now  that  he 
spoke  in  his  natural  tones.  She  no  longer  refused  to  listen 
to  his  suit,  and  shortly  after  married  Richard  of  Cornwall, 
the  strange  knight,  and  became  empress  of  Germany 
in  1269. 


212 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


CAUB. 


Stons  of  St.  ^beoneat. 

Theonest,  the  holy  missionary,  had  been  put  to  death  in 
Mayence.  In  derision  the  unbelievers  thrust  his  remains 
in  a  tub  and  set  them  afloat  upon  the  river  which  he  had 
admired  so  openly,  and  along  which  he  had  hoped  to  secure 
so  many  converts. 

The  tub,  bobbing  up  and  down  on  the  waters,  was  carried 
on  by  the  swift  current  until  it  finally  ran  aground  at  Caub, 
where  the  saint,  miraculously  restored  to  life,  stepped 
serenely  ashore,  and  taught  the  gospel  to  the  heathen. 
While  he  was  converting  them  to  Christianity,  he  initiated 
them  also  in  the  cultivation  of  the  vine  and  the  making 
of  wine,  using  the  tub  in  which  he  had  drifted  down  the 
stream  as  his  first  wine  press. 

Ever  since  then  the  inhabitants  of  Caub  have  held  his 
name  sacred,  and  in  the  month  of  October  they  never  fail  to 
celebrate  his  festival  with  dance  and  song,  drinking  many  a 
hearty  toast  to  the  saint  who  first  taught  them  how  to  make 
the  wine  for  which  their  town  is  famous. 


PFALZ. 


B  Secret  ASarriaae. 

In  the  middle  of  the  Rhine,  almost  directly  opposite  Caub, 
is  a  quaint  little  castle  known  as  the  Pfalz,  or  Pfalzgrafenstein. 
Its  numerous  turrets,  central  dungeon,  ramparts,  and  eight 
towers,  adorned  with  the  Palatine  arms,  all  conspire  to  add 
to  the  picturesque  appearance  of  this  building,  which  was 
erected  in  the  fourteenth  century. 

History  claims  that  the  Pfalz  was  built  to  serve  as  toll 
house  that  the  nobles  might  levy  a  certain  tax  upon  the 
numerous  vessels  constantly  sailing  up  and  down  the  Rhine, 


N 

P 

3 

O 

a 

mJ 

C 
C 

OQ 

O 
p 

*"• 
A 


n 

> 

c 


k*  i 


PFALZ, 


but  tradition  ascribes  its  foundation  to  a  far  more  romantic 
cause.  The  principality  of  the  Pfalz  was  given  by  the 
emperor  of  Germany,  Frederick  Barbarossa,  to  Conrad  of 
Staufen,  when  his  half  brother  died  leaving  no  heirs.  This 
new  elector  had  only  one  daughter,  the  fair  young  Agnes, 
who  dwelt  with  her  mother  at  Stahleck,  and  as  she  was  a 
beauty  as  well  as  an  heiress,  she  soon  had  plenty  of  suitors. 
Prince,  knight-errant,  and  minstrel  seemed  equally  anxious 
to  secure  her  favor,  but  she  dismissed  them  all  gently,  for 
her  heart  was  quite  free  until  Henry,  duke  of  Brunswick, 
appeared. 

Favored  by  the  young  lady's  mother,  the  lovers  spent 
many  a  happy  hour  together,  talking  of  the  day  when  Con- 
rad, returning  from  war,  would  give  his  consent  to  their 
speedy  marriage.  What  was  their  dismay,  therefore,  when 
a  messenger  suddenly  appeared,  saying  that  Conrad  had 
promised  his  only  daughter's  hand  to  a  member  of  the 
imperial  family,  and  would  soon  appear  with  the  bridegroom 
he  had  chosen,  to  celebrate  the  wedding. 

Agnes  wept,  Henry  fumed,  but  knowing  the  arbitrary 
character  of  Conrad  they  both  realized  that  he  would  insist 
upon  having  his  own  way,  and  that  neither  tears  nor  remon- 
strances would  be  of  any  avail.  The  young  people  were  in 
despair,  until  the  mother  suggested  a  secret  marriage. 
Then  Henry  and  Agnes  were  hurriedly  made  husband  and 

wife. 

Shortly  after  their  marriage  Conrad  appeared,  and  when 
he  heard  that  his  daughter  had  plighted  her  troth  he 
angrily  declared  the  marriage  invalid,  locked  her  up  in  her 
apartments,  and  drove  Henry  of  Brunswick  ignominiously 
away.  Then,  fearing  lest  the  young  people  should  manage 
to  communicate  in  spite  of  all  his  watchfulness,  he  hastened 
the  completion  of  the  castle  he  was  building  in  the  middle 
of  the  Rhine,  and  transferred  Agnes  thither.  There  he 
declared  that  she  should  remain  a  prisoner  until  she  con- 
sented   to    marry    the    husband    he    had  chosen    for    her, 


214  LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 

refusing   to  see   or  speak   to   her  until    she   submitted  to 

'  One  day,  however,  several  months  after  Agnes  had  been 
locked  up  in  the  Pfalz,  he  heard  that  she  had  given  birth 
to  a  little  son.  He  bitterly  regretted  that  he  had  refused 
to  recognize  the  marriage,  and  hastened  to  court  to 
inform  the  emperor,  for  the  first  time,  that  the  marriage 
they  had  projected  could  now  never  take  place.  The 
emperor  who  had  been  very  anxious  to  secure  the  fair 
Agnes  and  her  fortune  for  his  own  family,  was  very  angry 
indeed  and  vowed  that  the  child  which  she  had  just  borne 
would  never  be  recognized  as  heir  to  the  Palatinate,  unless 
every  formality  had  been  observed  at  her  marriage,  and  he 
saw  the  contract  was  correctly  drawn  up. 

Conrad  then  sadly  returned  home,  for  he  felt  sure  that  a 
love-sick  youth  and  two  women  would  have  overlooked  a 
marriage  contract,  but  when  he  saw  the  great  parchment, 
and  ascertained  that  every  legal  formality  had  been  duly 
observed,  he  joyfully  hastened  back  to  court. 

The  young  couple  were  forgiven,  Henry  was  again 
allowed  to  visit  his  wife,  and  the  little  babe  born  in  the 
Pfalz  lived  to  grow  up  and  inherit  all  their  property.  Ever 
since  then,  it  has  been  customary  for  the  Princess  Palatine 
to  await  her  first  confinement  in  this  little  fortress,  and  the 
birth  chamber  is  still  shown  to  the  inquisitive  public. 

They  are  also  allowed  to  gaze  upon  the  exact  spot  in  the 
turret  where  Blucher  took  up  his  post  on  New  Year's  Day, 
1814  to  watch  his  army  cross  the  Rhine,  for  he  was  then  on 
the  way  to  encounter  Napoleon,  and  finally  defeat  him  a 
few  months  later  at  Waterloo. 


BACHARACH. 

Old   House. 


BACHARACH, 


215 


BACHARACH. 

Xffb^  Bltat  of  J9accbtt0. 

The  picturesque  little  town  of  Bacharach  was  once  visited 
by  Bacchus,  in  whose  honor  it  is  named,  who  is  said  to  have 
planted  the  vines  which  produce  a  vintage  which  has  won  a 
world-wide  reputation. 

"At  Klingenberg  on  the  xMain, 
At  WUrzbiirg  by  the  Stein, 
At  Bacharach  on  the  Rhine, 
There  grows  the  best  of  wine  " 

^Old  Rhyme. 

The  Romans,  who  had  a  military  post  here,  erected  a 
great  stone  altar  in  honor  of  the  god  of  wine,  on  an  island 
in  the  river.  This  island  has  now  sunk  and  only  one  stone 
of  the  ponderous  altar  is  at  times  visible.  The  people  use 
this  stone  as  an  omen,  for  when  it  is  visible  at  a  certain 
epoch  of  the  year  they  declare  the  vintage  will  be  good,  but 
if  it  remains  submerged  they  always  predict  a  bad  year.  The 
imposing  ruins  of  Stahleck  castle  rise  directly  above  the 
village,  and  now  belong  to  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  while  in 
the  center  of  the  town  is  the  church  of  St.  Werner,  erected 
over  the  mortal  remains  of  the  child-martyr  of  Oberwesel, 
who  was  so  cruelly  murdered  by  the  Jews. 


FURSTENBERG. 
Ube  tTenDer  Aotben 

In  the  thirteenth  century  the  castle  of  Furstenberg  was 
occupied  by  Franz  von  Ftirst,  who,  after  a  youth  of  reckless 
dissipation,  fell  suddenly  and  dangerously  ill.  Terrified  by 
his  condition,  he  vowed  that  in  case  he  recovered  he  would 


3l6 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


lead  an  exemplary  life,  and,  rising  from  his  sick  bed  shortly 
after,  married  the  beautiful  Cunigunde  of  Florsheim,  with 
whom  he  lived  very  happily  indeed. 

She  was  so  sweet  and  virtuous  that  for  a  while  she  suc- 
ceeded in  interesting  him  in  doing  good,  but  just  as  this 
quiet  life  was  beginning  to  pall  upon  him,  his  wife's  cousin, 
Amina,  a  handsome  but  utterly  unprincipled  girl,  came  to 
visit  them.  She  soon  began  a  lively  flirtation  with  Franz, 
which  was  easily  carried  on  while  Cunigunde  was  occupied 
in  watching  over  her  infant  son  Hugo. 

Little  by  little  the  flirtation  ripened  into  passion,  and 
soon  the  guilty  couple  began  to  wish  that  Cunigunde  were 
out  of  the  way,  so  that  they  might  marry.  Prompted  by 
Amina,  Franz  finally  poisoned  his  lovely  wife.  No  one  sus- 
pected the  cause  of  the  young  countess'  death,  although 
many  people  commented  upon  the  heartlessness  of  a  husband 
who  could  contract  a  second  alliance  a  week  after  his  wife's 
death,  and  soon  the  matter  seemed  forgotten.  Poor  little 
Hugo  alone  seemed  to  miss  his  dead  mother,  for  he  had 
been  intrusted  to  the  care  of  a  selfish  old  woman  who 
neglected  him  sorely.  She  awoke  one  night  to  hear  the 
child  moaning  as  if  in  pain,  and  angrily  turned  over  and 
tried  to  go  to  sleep,  for  she  did  not  wish  to  be  disturbed 
by  the  cries  of  a  sickly  babe. 

All  at  once,  however,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  someone  had 
entered  the  room  ;  the  cradle  began  to  rock,  and  soon  the 
infant's  cries  ceased.  Looking  in  the  direction  of  her  little 
charge,  the  careless  nurse  started  in  terror,  for  there  in 
the  silvery  moonlight  stood  the  wraith  of  her  dead  mistress, 
tenderly  stooping  over  her  ailing  child. 

A  few  moments  later,  the  child  having  fallen  asleep,  the 
ghost  noiselessly  glided  from  the  room,  and  as  soon  as  day 
dawned  and  she  dared  venture  to  creep  out  of  the  protecting 
bedclothes,  the  nurse  rushed  off  to  the  countess'  apartments 
to  report  the  spectral  visitation. 

Amina  first   laughed   her  to  scorn,  but  finally  said   she 


fOrstenberg. 


SI7 


would  spend  the  next  night  in  the  room  herself,  for  she  sud- 
denly thought  that  perhaps  the  poison  had  not  been  effective 
enough,  and  that  the  dead  woman  had  risen  from  a  trance, 
and  must  be  more  surely  disposed  of  if  she  would  remain  in 
her  present  place. 

That  night  the  child  again  proved  very  restless,  and  as 
Amina  paid  no  heed  to  its  cries,  the  dead  countess,  urged 
by  true  mother  love,  again  returned  to  earth  to  soothe  it  to 
sleep.  Springing  from  the  bed,  Amina  plunged  her  dagger 
again  and  again  into  the  spectral  form,  but  as  her  blows  met 
with  no  resistance,  she  suddenly  became  aware  that  she  had 
to  deal  with  a  spirit,  and  fainted  away  in  terror. 

When  she  recovered  consciousness  toward  morning,  the 
nightly  vision  was  gone,  and  all  seemed  as  before.  Amina, 
urged  by  acute  remorse,  then  sought  her  husband's  pres- 
ence and  announced  her  decision  to  retire  into  a  convent, 
to  spend  the  rest  of  her  life  there  in  doing  penance  for 
her  sins. 

Franz  also  repented,  and  after  having  committed  little 
Hugo  to  the  watchful  care  of  the  priest  of  Rheindiebach, 
he  withdrew  into  an  hermitage,  where  he,  too,  incessantly 
implored  divine  forgiveness. 

Cunigunde's  spirit  now  ceased  to  haunt  little  Hugo's  bed- 
side, for  he  was  tended  by  a  gentle,  motherly  woman,  who 
watched  over  him  as  lovingly  as  if  he  had  been  her  own. 
But  she  often  told  him  of  his  mother  in  heaven,  who  had 
left  the  celestial  mansion  merely  to  still  his  infant  cries, 
and  enable  him  to  sleep  in  peace. 


2l8 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


LORCH. 


On  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  near  the  entrance  of  the 
little  valley  known  as  the  Wisperthal  (the  whispering 
valley),  stands  the  little  town  of  Lorch,  one  of  the  most 
ancient  places  along  the  river.  Three  young  men,  stoppmg 
at  the  inn,  once  asked  their  host  whether  there  were  any 
places  of  interest  to  visit  in  the  neighborhood,  and  hearmg 
that  the  Wisperthal  was  haunted,  immediately  resolved  to 

explore  it. 

They  had   not  gone  very  far  before  their  attention  was 

attracted  by  soft,  sibilant  sounds,  and  looking  in  the  direc- 
tion whence  they  came  they  beheld  a  huge  rock-like  wall, 
which  they  had  first  taken  for  the  side  of  a  precipice.     It 
was  evidently  a  castle,  for  near  the  top  were  three   small 
windows,   whence  protruded  three  beautiful  female  heads. 
The  sibilant  sounds  were  made  by  the  ladies,  who  were 
thus  trying  to  attract  the  young  men's  attention,  and  who 
now  invitingly  beckoned  to  them  to  come  up  and  join  them. 
The  impressionable  youths  immediately  sought  some  mode 
of  ingress.     After  groping  their  way  through  the  underbrush, 
they  reached  a  door,  which  opened  at  their  touch,  and   led 
them  into  a  mirror-lined  hall,  magnificently  illumined,  where 
the  three  lovely  ladies  graciously  advanced  to  receive  them. 

But,  when  the  dazzled  youths  would  fain  have  kissed  the 
beautiful  hands  stretched  out  in  welcome,  they  found  them- 
selves  stopped  by  a  wall  of  glass,  and  discovered  that  what 
they  had  taken  for  a  reality  was  nothing  but  a  reflection. 
Bewildered  they  turned  around,  only  to  be  again  deluded, 
and  as  every  mirror  in  the  hall  reflected  the  same  gracious 
figures,  they  soon  stood  still  in  amazement. 

Their  embarrassment  was  soon  dispelled,  however,  by  the 
appearance  of  a  peculiar-looking  old  man,  who  said  the  fair 


LORCH. 


319 


maidens  were  his  own  daughters.  He  promised  to  give 
them  in  marriage  to  the  youths,  with  dowries  of  a  thou- 
sand gold  pieces  each.  Then  he  led  them  to  the  maidens, 
allowed  them  to  kiss  their  hands,  and,  under  pretext  of 
testing  their  complaisance,  bade  them  go  in  search  of  his 
daughters'  pets,  who  had  escaped  that  very  morn. 

These  pets  were  a  raven,  which  sang  a  song;  a  riddle- 
repeating  starling,  and  a  story-telling  magpie.  The  old  man 
further  assured  them  that  the  birds  would  be  found  on  the 
same  tree  as  they  never  parted  company.  Anxious  to  prove 
their  devotion,  the  three  young  men  rushed  out  of  the  hall, 
and  after  seeking  in  the  thicket,  finally  descried  the  three 
pets.  They  recognized  them  readily,  for  the  raven  sang  his 
song,  the  starling  propounded  his  riddle,  and  the  magpie 
told  his  story.  The  youths,  having  each  secured  one  of  the 
birds,  retraced  their  steps,  and,  opening  the  door  in  the 
rocky  wall,  were  surprised  to  find  themselves  in  a  damp  and 
ruined  hall,  instead  of  in  the  resplendent  mirror-lined  apart- 
ment which  they  had  left  a  short  time  before.  Instead  of 
three  beautiful  damsels,  three  toothless  and  palsied  hags 
now  came  to  meet  them,  clasped  them  in  their  bony  arms, 
and  claimed  them  as  bridegrooms. 

Disgusted,  dismayed,  and  wofully  disappointed,  the  youths 
finally  yielded  to  their  invitation,  sat  down  to  the  well-spread 
board,  but  no  sooner  had  they  tasted  the  wine  which  the  old 
women  offered  them  than  they  sank  unconscious  on  the 
floor.  When  they  recovered  their  senses,  they  found 
themselves  lying  on  the  marshy  ground  in  a  dense  thicket, 
the  fair  maidens,  mysterious  birds,  and  old  hags  had  all 
vanished,  and  springing  to  their  feet  they  hurried  away. 

In  spite  of  the  repetition  of  the  sibilant  sounds  which  had 
once  deluded  them,  they  rushed  out  of  the  valley,  and 
solemnly  vowed  they  would  never  return  there  again,  lest 
worse  adventures  should  befall  them. 


2  20  LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


HEIMBURG. 

B  Cnic!  jfatber. 

The  recently  restored  castle  of  Heimburg,  or  Hoheneck, 
situated  above  Niederheimbach,  is  built  on  the  site  of  an  old 
Frankish  keep,  often  visited  by  Pharamond  the  first  of  the 
Merovingian  kings,  who  often  rode  thither  from  Worms. 
The  attraction  was  Ida,  daughter  of  Sueno  the  castle  owner. 
Sueno  was  utterly  unconscious  of  the  king's  love  for  his 
daughter,  and  fancied  that  Pharamond  hastened  thither  only 
to  enjoy  the  beautiful  situation  and  the  pleasures  of  the 
chase,  for  even  when  he  was  absent  the  king  sometimes 
came  to  Heimburg. 

After  a  prolonged  absejice,  Sueno  once  returned  to  fmd 
his  daughter  the  mother  of  a  beautiful  babe,  and  when  he 
angrily  demanded  who  had  made  her  forget  her  duty,  she 
wept  and  told  him  that  she  was  married,  but  had  promised 
not  to  reveal  her  husband's  name.  As  entreaties  were  of 
no  avail,  Sueno  ordered  that  Ida  should  be  scourged,  and 
persisted  in  his  cruel  treatment  of  her  until  she  died. 

Two  days  after  she  had  breathed  her  last,  Pharamond,  the 
hing,  came  to  Heimburg,  and  as  he  entered  the  castle  he 
asked  for   Ida,    his   wife.       Then   he   heard    how  she    had 

perished. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  rode  down  the  hill  again,  bearing 
his  infant  son  in  his  arms,  and  leaving  Sueno  lifeless  in  the 
castle,  for,  upon  hearing  how  cruelly  he  had  treated  poor 
Ida,  the  barbarian  king  had  drawn  his  sword  and  laid  him 
dead  at  his  feet ! 


SONNECK, 


SONNECK, 


The  castle  of  Sonneck,  with  its  tall  tower,  was  first  built 
in  1015,  and  was  the  ancestral  home  of  a  noble  family  of  the 
same  name.  All  the  men  of  this  race  was  remarkably  fond 
of  hunting  in  their  wide  forests,  and  the  castle  eventually 
fell  into  the  hands  of  Prince  Heinrich,  who  loved  the  chase 
so  dearly  that  it  absorbed  all  his  time  and  thoughts. 

To  be  perfectly  free  to  indulge  in  his  favorite  pastime, 
the  young  lord  of  Sonneck  intrusted  all  his  business  to  the 
care  of  a  steward.  This  man  sorely  oppressed  all  the  poor 
people,  but  Heinrich  always  exclaimed  that  he  had  no  time 
to  hear  their  complaints,  as  he  must  go  out  into  the  woods 
and  hunt. 

One  day,  however,  he  could  start  no  game.  So  he  gayly 
proposed  that  he  and  his  companions  should  separate  and 
scour  the  forest  in  different  directions,  returning  at  nightfall 
to  a  trysting  spot,  which  he  indicated.  This  plan  was  immedi- 
ately acted  upon,  and  Prince  Heinrich  soon  started  a  stag 
which  he  hotly  pursued,  only  to  see  it  vanish  mysteriously 
after  a  long  run. 

Then  only  he  looked  about  him  to  find  his  bearings,  and 
was  greatly  surprised  to  find  himself  in  a  strange  place. 
Although  he  repeatedly  blew  his  horn,  no  answering  sound 
was  heard.  He  was  about  to  ride  on,  when  he  suddenly 
saw  a  gaunt,  cadaverous-looking  form  rise  before  him, 
and  heard  a  voice  command  him,  in  sepulchral  tones,  to 
follow. 

Involuntarily  Prince  Heinrich  obeyed,  and  as  he  passed  on 
he  noticed  with  awe  that  the  garments  of  his  guide  seemed 
covered  with  mold,  and  that  he  exhaled  an  ancient  and 
earth-like  smell.  A  few  moments  later  they  came  before 
a  building  which  Heinrich  had  never  seen,  and,  still  implicitly 


aaa  legends  of  the  riiine. 

obeying   his  guide,  he  dismounted  and  entered  the  hall  in 

silence 

There  he  saw  a  long  table,  on  either  side  of  which  were 
seated  many  ghastly-looking  guests,  who  silently  devoured 
the  rich  food  set  before  them.  They  seemed  to  swallow  it 
with  contortions  of  pain.  When  he  had  gazed  for  several 
minutes  upon  this  strange  feast,  the  guide  made  Heinrich  a 
sign  to  leave  the  hall  and  remount,  and  led  him  back  to  the 
place  where  he  had  first  seen  him. 

There  the  cadaverous  man  paused  for  a  moment,  ere  he 
informed  Heinrich  that  the  silent  guests  were  his  ancestors, 
condemned  to  eat  the  rich  food  which,  in  spite  of  its  inviting 
appearance,  was  as  bitter  as  the  apples  of  Sodom.  This  was 
the  punishment  inflicted  upon  them  for  their  selfish  absorb- 

tion  in  their  own  pleasures. 

-Be  warned,  therefore,  oh,  prince,"  he  concluded,  '*  for 
our  life  is  unbearable  and  our  hearts  constantly  burn  hot 

within  us.** 

With  these  words,  the  specter  pushed  aside  the  damp 
folds  of  his  moldy  garments,  and  there,  between  his 
whitening  ribs,  the  count  perceived  a  glowing  ball  of  fire. 
A  moment  later  the  apparition  had  vanished,  and  Heinrich, 
looking  in  the  direction  of  the  palace,  saw  only  a  raging  sea 
of  flames,  which  slowly  sank  down  to  the  earth,  while  heart- 
rending cries  and  groans  fairiy  made  his  hair  stand  up  on 

end  with  horror. 

When  the  count  of  Sonneck  arrived  home  that  evening, 
his  servants  were  surprised  to  find  that  his  coal  black  hair 
and  beard  were  as  white  as  snow.  He  was  as  much  altered 
in  character  as  in  appearance,  and  his  first  care  ever 
after  was  to  discharge  every  duty  with  the  utmost  con- 
scientiousness, and  to  use  only  his  leisure  moments  to 
indulge  in  his  favorite  pastime,  the  chase. 


< 


o 

in 


RHEINSTEIN', 


**  j> 


RHEINSTEIN. 

The  castles  of  the  Rheinstein  and  Reichenstein,  which 
rise  on  neighboring  hills,  were  once  inhabited  by  a  youth 
and  maiden.  Having  grown  up  together,  these  young 
people  learned  to  love  each  other  so  dearly  that  when  they 
reached  maturity  they  were  very  anxious  indeed  to  marry. 
Kuno,  the  young  lord  of  Reichenstein,  daily  visited  his 
beloved  Gerda,  and  on  her  birthday  offered  her  a  magnifi- 
cent steed,  which  he  had  carefully  trained  for  her  use. 
Then,  longing  to  possess  her,  he  begged  her  permission  to 
reveal  their  mutual  affection  to  her  grim  and  avaricious  old 
father,  and  win  his  consent  to  a  speedy  union. 

As  a  suitor  in  those  days  seldom  approached  the  father 
of  his  beloved  on  such  a  subject,  and  generally  made  his 
proposals  through  an  older  person,  Kuno  sought  a  bachelor 
uncle  and  entreated  him  to  bear  his  message.  The  uncle 
immediately  departed,  presented  himself  before  the  lord  of 
Rheinstein,  made  known  his  nephew's  wishes,  and  after 
casually  mentioning  that  as  he  was  unmarried  the  youth 
would  also  inherit  his  vast  estates,  he  obtained  a  favorable 
reply. 

These  preliminaries  settled,  the  uncle,  who  was  a  baron, 
requested  permission  to  see  his  future  niece,  whom  he  com- 
plimented greatly,  making  no  mention  of  his  errand,  how- 
ever, and  carefully  avoiding  his  nephew's  name.  When  she 
had  left  the  apartment,  the  baron  suddenly  turned  to  her 
father  and  declared  that  if  he  would  give  his  daughter  to 
him  instead  of  to  his  nephew,  he  would  accept  her  without 
dowry,  and  even,  if  necessary,  give  him  a  large  sum  of 
money  in  exchange. 

As  the  Lord  of  Rheinstein  was  very  avaricious  indeed,  he 
joyfully  acceded  to  this  new  proposal,  promising  that  the 
marriage    should    take    place  on  the  morrow,  in    the    little 


224 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


chapel  of  St.  Clement,  which  stood  in  the  valley  between 
the  two  castles.  Delighted  with  the  success  of  Hiis  inter- 
view, for  he  secretly  hated  his  nephew,  the  baron  rode  away, 
and  when  Kuno  met  him  he  took  grim  pleasure  in  telling 
him  how  he  had  won  the  promise  of  Gerda's  hand. 

Poor  Kuno,  almost  mad  with  rage  and  despair,  rode  home 
and  made  a  bold  plan  to  carry  Gerda  off  by  night.  But 
alas!  this  plan  was  never  carried  out,  for  the  Lord  of  Rhein- 
stein,  mistrusting  the  lovers,  guarded  his  daughter  so  care- 
fully that  her  suitor  was  driven  away  by  a  force  of  armed  men. 

Day  dawned  and  gentle  Gerda,  who  dared  not  openly 
resist  her  father's  authority,  was  arrayed  in  bridal  finery, 
and  placed  upon  her  handsome  steed.  Then  escorted  by 
her  father,  the  baron,  and  all  their  retainers  she  slowly 
rode  down  the  hill  to  St.  Clement's  Chapel,  in  lull  view  of 
Kuno,  who,  from  the  top  of  his  turret,  sadly  watched  the 
girl  he  loved. 

The  procession  halted  at  the  church  door,  and  all  dis- 
mounted except  Gerda,  who  sat  passively  upon  her  steed 
imploring  St.  Clement  to  deliver  her  from  a  hated  mar- 
riage. At  that  moment  a  gadfly  stung  her  horse,  and  he, 
goaded  to  madness,  rushed  off,  galloping  madly  up  the 
road  which  led  to  his  former  home  at  Reichenstein. 

Gerda  clung  helplessly  to  the  saddle,  and  heard  her  father 
and  bridegroom  loudly  calling  to  her  to  draw  rein,  while 
they  prepared  to  pursue  her.  But  as  death  seemed  prefer- 
able to  a  hated  marriage,  she  did  not  obey.  A  sudden  cry 
of  joy  above  her  made  her  raise  her  head,  however,  and 
she  soon  descried  Kuno  making  frantic  signs  to  her  to 
hurry,  while  he  lowered  the  drawbridge  which  led  into  his 
yard.  This  sight  immediately  gave  the  almost  fainting 
maiden  courage,  and  she  urged  her  steed  on  faster  and 
faster.  She  was  closely  pursued  by  the  baron,  who,  better 
mounted  than  she,  overtook  her,  and  was  about  to  seize 
the  bridle  of  her  steed  when  his  horse  stumbled  and  fell, 
throwing  and   killing  him   instantly. 


RHEINSTEIN    CASTLE. 


FALKENBURG, 


a«S 


Without  pausing  to  see  what  had  happened,  Gerda  rode 
rapidly  on  and  crossed  the  drawbridge,  which  was  immedi- 
ately  drawn  up  behind  her.  Then  she  was  lifted  from  her 
panting  steed  by  the  triumphant  Kuno,  who  rapturously 
pressed  her  to  his  heart.  Their  raptures  were  interrupted 
at  last  by  the  angry  father  without,  so  Kuno  led  the  fair 
maiden  upon  the  rampart,  where  they  stood  in  full  view  of 
the  wedding  company  below.  There  he  flatly  refused  to 
let  Gerda  go,  but  proclaimed  that  his  own  chaplain  should 
marry  them  in  presence  of  the  whole  assembly. 

Before  this  plan  could  be  carried  out,  however,  the 
baron's  retainers  came  to  report  their  master's  death, 
and  to  pay  their  respects  to  Kuno,  who,  as  heir  at  law,  was 
now  owner  of  all  his  uncle's  vast  wealth.  The  lord  of 
Rheinstein,  hearing  this,  loudly  declared  he  would  no  lon- 
ger oppose  his  daughter's  wishes,  and  implored  the  young 
people  to  come  down  and  be  married  in  St.  Clement's  Chapel, 
where  all  was  ready  for  the  wedding.  At  a  whispered 
word  from  Gerda,  Kuno  consented,  and  a  few  moments 
later  a  bridal  cavalcade  passed  slowly  down  the  hill,  and 
again  paused  at  the  church  door.  This  time,  however, 
the  bride  uttered  no  frantic  prayer  to  be  saved  from  the 
marriage,  the  steed  did  not  run  away,  and  all  passed  off  as 
merrily  as  the  traditional  wedding  bells,  for  no  one  cared 
for  the  old  baron,  who  was  entirely  forgotten. 


FALKENBURa 

ttbe  Specter  36rlOe» 

The  ruins  of  the  castle  of  Falkenburg,  which  is  also 
know  as  Reichenstein,  are  picturesquely  situated  near  the 
chapel  dedicated  to  St.  Clement,  and  are  connected  with 
another  very  romantic  mediaeval  legend.     This  states  that 


226 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


Liba,  daughter  of   the    Lord   of   Falkenburg,    plighted   her 
troth  to  Guntram,  a  brave  and  handsome  young  knight.' 

The  young  people  were  obliged  to  defer  their  marriage 
for  six  months,  however,  as  the  emperor  had  selected  the 
youth  for  an  important  mission.  So  the  lovers  parted  with 
many  repeated  vows  that  they  would  think  incessantly  of 
each  other,  and  that  nothing  would  ever  make  them  forget 
the  promises  they  had  exchanged. 

His  mission  safely  accomplished,  Guntram  prepared  to 
return  to  Falkenburg,  and  finding  the  pace  too  slow,  soon 
left  his  suite  behind  him  and  impatiently  urged  his  steed 
onward.  He  was  overtaken  by  a  storm  toward  nightfall, 
and  took  refuge  in  an  old  castle,  which  appeared  in  a 
sad  state  of  ruin  and  decay.  The  castle  servants,  who 
seemed  as  decrepit  as  the  building,  led  him  into  a  hall, 
where  they  bade  him  await  their  master's  coming,  and 
to  beguile  the  time  Guntram  examined  the  antique  paint- 
ings on  the  wall.  He  soon  noticed  that  a  curtain  hung 
over  one  of  these  pictures,  and  absently  pushing  it  aside, 
was  startled  by  the  sight  of  the  portrait  of  a  beautiful 
woman,  seated  beside  an  open  grave. 

A  few  moments  later,  the  old  master  of  the  castle 
appeared  and  made  him  welcome.  When  bedtime  came,  an 
old  servant  led  him  along  dismantled  halls  and  cobwebby 
corridors  to  a  wing  of  the  castle  where,  he  explained,  the 
only  inhabitable  apartment  was  to  be  found.  Tlicn  they 
entered  a  chamber  which  had  apparently  once  belonged  to  a 
lady,  and  the  servant  bade  Guntram  good-night,  warning 
him  to  say  his  prayers  and  pay  no  heed  if  he  heard  mysteri- 
ous sounds  during  the  night,  for,  although  the  castle  was 
haunted,  no  harm  befell  those  who  had  a  clear  conscience. 

Somewhat  excited  by  this  warning,  Guntram  did  not  fall 
asleep  as  readily  as  usual,  and  when  midnight  struck  he 
heard  a  noise  in  the  adjoining  chamber.  Through  the 
half  open  door  he  now  beheld  the  lady  whose  veiled 
portrait  had  attracted  his  attention  in  the  great  hall,   and 


FALKENBURG, 


927 


heard  her  softly  singing  to  herself.  The  maiden  was  so 
beautiful,  that  Guntram  would  fain  have  spoken  to  her,  but 
the  thought  of  the  waiting  Liba  restrained  him  from  holding 
any  intercourse  with  this  strangely  fascinating  person, 
whom  he  in  no  wise  took  for  a  ghost,  but  for  a  bona  fide 
girl,  whose  presence  the  aged  servant  had  cleverly  tried  to 
keep  secret. 

Guntram  slept,  and  when  he  awoke  the  girl  had  vanished 
and  the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens.  When  he  joined  his 
host  he  was  courteously  invited  to  tarry  a  few  days,  so  he 
forgot  his  haste  to  join  his  beloved  and  resolved,  if  possible, 
to  find  out  who  the  fair  lady  might  be.  He  wandered  idly 
about  the  ruins  during  the  afternoon,  came  to  the  chapel, 
and  amused  himself  by  reading  the  inscriptions  on  the 
tombs,  on  one  of  which  stood  the  words:  "  Pray  for  me, 
but  beware  of  my  glances." 

But,  in  spite  of  diligent  search,  he  caught  no  glimpse  of 
the  maiden  who  had  so  excited  his  curiosity.  It  was  only 
when  he  had  returned  to  his  room,  and  midnight  had  again 
struck,  that  a  light  shone  in  the  adjoining  chamber  and  he 
again  saw  the  golden-haired  lady  sitting  before  the  table 
crooning  her  song. 

This  time  Guntram  approached  and  addressed  her, 
marveling  because  she  answered  him  only  by  gestures,  but 
in  a  few  moments  a  lively  pantomime  flirtation  was  begun. 
The  young  man,  forgetting  Liba,  and  allured  by  the  beauti- 
ful maiden's  glances,  finally  threw  his  arms  around  the  girl 
her  and  kissed  her. 

To  his  surprise  she  then  drew  a  ring  from  her  finger, 
placed  it  on  his,  returned  his  kiss,  and  then  suddenly 
vanished,  leaving^  him  bewildered  and  alone.  When  morn- 
ing dawned,  Guntram,  ashamed  of  his  conduct,  took  leave 
of  his  host,  and  rode  away.  He  paused  only  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill  to  ask  a  peasant  why  the  castle  was  all  in  ruins  and 
the  people  so  old  and  sad. 

In  answer  to  this  inquiry  the  peasant  informed  him  that 


228 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


CLEMENSKA  PELLE, 


229 


the  castle  had  once  been  strong  and  handsome,  the  favorite 
resort  of  many  knights,  who  came  to  woo  Etelinda,  the  fair 
young  chatelaine.  She,  however,  was  coquettish  and 
capricious,  and  wearied  them  all  by  her  exactions,  until  at 
last  a  youth  presented  himself  vowing  he  was  ready  to 
stand  every  test,  providing  she  would  honor  him  with  her 
love. 

Etelinda  laughingly  bade  this  suitor  stand  unarmed  at 
the  crossroads  on  Walpiirgisnacht,  and  report  what  he  saw; 
but,  although  he  fearlessly  started  out  to  do  her  bidding, 
he  never  returned,  and  his  body  was  found  torn  to  pieces 
either  by  the  angry  witches  or  by  ravenous  wolves.  The 
youth's  mother,  inconsolable  at  his  loss,  cursed  Etelinda, 
who  sickened  and  died  nine  days  after,  and  whose  body 
mysteriously  disappeared  just  as  it  was  about  to  be  con- 
signed to  the  tomb. 

Since  then  her  spirit  haunted  the  ruins,  and  would  only 
be  allowed  to  rest  when  someone  had  withstood  her  glances, 
all  the  rest  being  forced  to  die  nine  days  after  they  had  seen 
her.  When  Guntram  heard  this,  he  shuddered  with  fear, 
and  rode  on.  As  he  arrived  near  Falkenburg,  he  fancied 
he  saw  men  carrying  a  coffin  over  the  drawbridge,  and 
knew  no  rest  until  he  had  clasped  Liba  in  his  arms  and 
ascertained  that  she  was  safe. 

A  few  days  later,  Guntram  and  Liba  stood  side  by  side  in 
the  chapel  to  be  married,  but  when  Guntram  would  fain 
have  claimed  his  bride,  he  felt  an  icy  hand  in  his,  and 
saw  that  Etelinda  had  placed  herself  beside  him,  and  con- 
sidered him  as  her  own.  The  sight  of  this  specter  and 
the  touch  of  her  cold  hand  made  him  faint  with  terror,  and 
when  he  came  to  his  senses  again  he  had  only  time  to 
confess  his  sins  and  receive  absolution  before  he  died. 

Liba,  broken-hearted  at  his  loss,  died  nine  days  after,  and 
was  laid,  at  her  own  request,  in  the  same  grave  as  her  lover, 
whom  she  forgave  for  his  temporary  forgetfulness,  and 
loved  as  long  as  she  lived. 


I 

i 


i 


I 


CLEMENSKAPELLE. 

trbc  i^obK>et  ftnigbt 

The  knight  of  Rheinstein,  one  of  the  most  unscrupulous 
robbers  along  the  Rhine,  fell  in  love  with  the  noble  maid  of 
the  Wisperthal,  and  when  she  scorned  to  listen  to  his  pro- 
posal, he  angrily  vowed  to  win  her  by  fair  means  or  by  foul. 
The  former  having  soon  been  exhausted,  in  his  opinion,  he 
had  recourse  to  the  latter,  and  one  day,  while  the  maiden 
was  gathering  flowers,  his  attendants  seized  and  gagged  her, 
and  rapidly  carried  her  down  to  the  boat  where  their  wicked 
master  was  waiting  for  them. 

When  they  reached  the  center  of  the  stream,  the  robber 
knight  removed  the  bandage  from  the  fair  maiden's  face; 
but  when  she  piteously  implored  him  to  let  her  go,  he 
smilingly  curled   his   mustache  and  cried: 

**Blow  ye  winds  from  the  Wisperthal,  and  ripple  faster 
ye  waves,  that  my  bride  and  I  may  the  sooner  reach  my 
castle,  where  I  shall  jealously  guard  my  own  !  " 

The  noble  maiden,  seeing  her  entreaties  were  vain, 
then  fell  upon  her  knees  and  began  to  pray,  vowing  she 
would  build  a  chapel  in  honor  of  her  favorite  St.  Clement, 
if  he  would  only  intercede  in  her  behalf,  and  save  her  from 
becoming  the  wife  of  the  dishonorable  knight  who  had 
kidnaped  her. 

As  she  prayed,  the  Wisperthal  winds  began  to  rise  with  a 
vengeance,  the  waves  tumbled  and  tossed,  and  the  thunder 
crashed.  While  the  knight  and  his  men  were  frantically 
trying  to  row  ashore,  and  keep  the  vessel  from  sinking,  St. 
Clement  came  calmly  walking  over  the  waves,  stretched  out 
his  hand  to  the  maiden,  and  led  her  safely  ashore,  allowing 
the  boat  and  all  on  board  to  perish. 

The  maiden,  thankful  for  her  rescue  from  double  dansfcr, 
built  a  chapel  in  honor  of  her  favorite  saint  on  the  left  shore 
of  the  Rhine,  where  its  ruins  still  remind  the  traveler  of  the 


230 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


fair  maid  of  Wisperthal,  and  of  her  miraculous  detiverance 
from  the  cruel  hands  of  the  robber  knight  of  Rheinsteia. 


EHRENFELS. 
trbe  J3i0bop*6  c:rcacbcr^. 

Opposite  the  Mausethurm  or  Rat  Tower,  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Rhine,  are  the  picturesque  ruins  of  the  old  castle 
of  Ehrenfels,  which  was  founded  in  the  beginning  of  the 
ninth  century,  and  was  demolished  by  the  French  in  1689. 

In  the  days  when  Louis,  the  last  of  the  Carlovingians,  was 
reigning  over  Germany,  the  lord  of  Ehrenfels,  Adalbert, 
seized  and  imprisoned  his  brother  Conrad.  In  vain  the 
emperor  summoned  him  to  relinquish  the  captive;  in  vain  he 
besieged  the  fortress,  Adalbert  remained  firm,  until,  in  dis- 
gust, the  emperor  withdrew  with  his  troops  to  Mainz. 

The  bishop  Hatto,  hearing  of  the  emperor's  disappoint- 
ment, sought  his  presence,  and  volunteered  to  deliver 
the  rebel  knight  into  his  hands.  This  offer  was  gladly 
seized  by  Louis,  who  bade  him  bring  the  prisoner  to  Ingel- 
heim,  where  he  was  about  to  take  up  his  abode.  Hatto 
presented  himself  at  Ehrenfels,  with  a  very  small  retinue, 
was  admitted,  and  told  Adalbert  that  the  emperor  longed 
for  a  truce  to  all  hostilities  and  had  commissioned  him  to 
negotiate  a  reconciliation. 

Adalbert,  very  glad  to  end  the  strife,  immediately  ex- 
pressed his  readiness  to  suspend  all  hostilities,  and  even 
declared  he  would  go  and  seek  the  emperor,  were  he 
but  certain  no  treachery  were  intended  and  that  he  would 
return  home  safe  and  sound. 

Hearing  these  words,  Hatto  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
crucifix  and  swore  a  solemn  oath  to  the  effect  that  he  would 
bring  Adelbert  back  to  the  castle  of  Ehrenfels,  without 
his  having  been  molested   in  any  way. 


THE    ROBHER    KNIGHT. 


Schttch. 


BINGEI\r. 


«3i 


Thus  reassured,  the  knight  mounted  his  steed,  and,  riding 
beside  the  bishop,  started   out  for  the  court  at  Ingelheim. 
They  had   not   gone  very  far,  however,  before  the   bishop 
complained    that  he  was    weary,  and    playfully  reproached 
Adalbert  for  having  forgotten  to  offer  him  the  usual  refresh- 
ments.    Shocked  at  his  lack  of  hospitality,   the  knight  of 
Ehrenfels  implored  the  bishop  to  turn  around  once  more, 
and  after  a   little  persuasion   the  cavalcade  re-entered  the 
castle  of  Ehrenfels  where  refreshments  were  served,  and 
where  the  bishop  and  his  followers  were  richly  entertained. 
When  the  feast  was  ended,  and  Hatto  duly  rested,  they 
again  set  forth,  and  entered  Ingelheim.     There,  to  his  utter 
surprise,  Adalbert  was  made  prisoner  and  dragged  in  chains 
to  the  foot  of  the  imperial  throne,  where  he  was  sentenced 
to  death.     In  vain  he  protested  against  this  cruel  decree, 
and  finally  fell  at  the  bishop's  feet  imploring  him  to  remem- 
ber his  oath  to  take  him  back  to  Ehrenfels  in  safety.     The 
bishop   turned  carelessly  aside,  saying:    ''  I  did   take   you 
back  to  Ehrenfels  safely.     Why  did  you  not  exact  a  pledge 
the    second    time    we    started   out,    if    you   wished    me    to 
interfere  in  your  behalf." 

Realizing  too  late  that  he  was  the  victim  of  a  preconcerted 
plot,  Adalbert  started  to  his  feet  and  tried  to  cut  his  way 
out,  but  in  spite  of  all  of  his  courage  he  was  soon  over- 
powered and  led  away  to  the  scaffold,  where  he  was 
treacherously  beheaded. 


BINGEN. 


In  the  year  914,  when  Hatto  was  bishop  of  Mainz,  a  pro- 
tracted rain  entirely  ruined  the  harvest,  occasioning  a  terri- 
ble famine  from  which  the  poor  people  suffered  sorely. 
As  they  were  perishing  with  hunger,  they  finally  applied  to 


232 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


the  bishop,  whose  granaries  were  filled  to  overflowing  with 
the  produce  of  former,  more  favorable,  years. 

But  Hatto  was  cruel  and  hard-hearted  and  utterly  refused 
to  listen  to  them,  until  at  last  they  so  wearied  him  by  their 
constant  importunity,  that  he  bade  them  assemble  in  an 
empty  barn,  where  he  promised  to  meet  them  on  a  certain 
day  and  hour  to  quiet  all  their  demands. 

Almost  beside  themselves  with  joy  at  this  promise,  the 
people  hastened  to  the  appointed  spot,  gathering  there  in 
such  numbers  that  the  empty  barn  was  soon  quite  full. 
Anxiously  they  watched  for  the  bishop,  whom  they  greeted 
with  loud  cries  of  joy  as  soon  as  he  appeared.  These 
acclamations  however,  were  soon  changed  into  blood-curd- 
ling cries  of  distress,  for  the  cruel  prelate,  after  bidding  his 
servants  fasten  doors  and  windows  so  that  none  could 
escape,  set  fire  to  the  moldering  building  and  burned  them 
all,  declaring  they  were  like  rats  and  should  perish  in  the 
same  way. 

This  wholesale  massacre  ended,  the  bishop  returned  home, 
sat  down  before  his  lavishly-spread  table,  and  ate  with  as 
healthy  an  appetite  as  usual.  When  he  entered  the  dining 
room  on  the  morrow,  however,  he  stood  still  in  dismay, 
for  during  the  night  the  rats  had  gnawed  his  recently- 
finished  portrait  out  of  the  frame,  and  it  now  lay,  an  un- 
seemly heap,  upon  the  floor.  While  he  was  standing  over  it, 
his  heart  filled  with  sudden  nameless  terror,  for  he  fancied 
it  was  a  bad  omen,  a  servant  came  rushing  into  the  room, 
bidding  him  fly  for  his  life,  as  a  whole  army  of  hungry, 
fierce  looking  rats  were  coming  that  way. 

Without  waiting  for  his  usual  escort,  the  bishop  flung 
himself  upon  the  messenger's  steed  and  rode  rapidly  away. 
From  time  to  time  he  nervously  turned  his  head  to  mark  the 
gradual  approach  of  a  dark  line,  formed  by  thousands  of 
rats,  animated  by  the  revengeful  spirits  of  the  poor  he  had 
so  cruelly  burned. 

Faster  and  faster  Hatto  urged  his  panting  steed,  but,  in 


BINGEN. 


n% 


sp.te  of  all  h.s  efforts,  he  had  scarcely  dismounted,  entered 
a  smal  sk.ff  and  rowed  out  int.,  the  Rhine,  ere  an  army  of 
rats  fell  upon  his  horse  and  devoured  it.  The  bishop, 
shuddering  w,th  fear,  rowed  with  all  his  might  to  his  towe; 
in  the  middle  of  the  Rhine,  where  he  quickly  locked  him- 
self in,  fancying  he  had  escaped  from  his  hungry  foes 

But  the  voracious  rats,  having  disposed  of  his  steed,  now 
boldly  swam  across  the  Bingerloch  to  the  tower,  and 
swarmed  up  its  sides,  seeking  some  crevice  through  which 
they  could  get  at  their  foe.  As  they  found  none,  they  set 
their  sharp  teeth  to  work,  and  Hatto  quailed  with  dread 
as  he  heard  them  gnawing  busily  on  all  sides 

Ina  very  few  moments  the  rats  had  made  a  thousand 
holes  through  which  they  rushed  upon  their  victim 
^   Southey,  who   has   versified  this   legend,    which   he  calls 
God  s  Judgment  upon  a  Wicked  Bishop,"  describes  their 
entrance  thus : 

"  And  in  at  the  windows,  and  in  at  the  door, 
And  through  the  walls,  helter  skelter  they 'pour. 
And  down  from  the  ceiling,  and  up  through  the'floor 
From  the  right  and  the  left,  from  behind  and  before 
From  within  and  without,  from  above  and  below,      ' 
And  all  at  once  to  the  bishop  they  go. 

"  They  have  whetted  their  teeth  against  the  stones, 
And  now  they  pick  the  bishop's  bones  ; 
They  gnaw'd  the  flesh  from  every  limb. 
For  they  were  sent  to  do  judgment  on  him." 

Ever  since  then,  that  building  in  the  Rhine  has  been  known 
as  the  Rat  Tower.  Tradition  relates  that  the  bishop's 
soul  sank  down  to  the  nethermost  hell,  where  it  is  ever 
burning  in  a  fire  far  hotter  than  that  he  kindled  around  the 
starving  poor.  At  sunset  a  peculiar  red  glow  may  be  seen 
over  the  tower,  and  this,  the  people  declare,  is  only  a  faint 
reflection  of  that  infernal  furnace,  sent  to  warn  all  man- 
kind  against  cruelty  to  God's  poor.* 

*  See  Note  15  in  Appendix, 


234 


LEGENDS   OF    THE  RHINE, 


RHEINGRA  FENS  TEIN, 


ni 


KREUZNACH. 
ZTbc  Jfresbet. 

The  little  town  of  Kreuznach  is  built  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nahe,  one  of  the  principal  tributaries  of  the  Rhine,  and  is 
said  to  have  been  founded  many  centuries  ago,  when  that 
part  of  Germany  was  still  covered  with  the  dense  primeval 
forests.  A  missionary,  penetrating  into  these  wilds  to 
preach  the  gospel,  once  erected  a  stone  cross  on  a  little 
island  in  the  river,  and,  encouraged  by  this  visible  emblem 
of  peace  on  earth,  several  poor  fishermen  built  their  huts 
close  by  the  banks  of  the  stream. 

Here  they  lived  peaceful  and  happy,  during  the  fall  and 
spring,  but  when  the  spring  freshets  came,  the  waters  swept 
away  their  fragile  huts  arid  nought  but  the  cross  remained. 
The  people  then  crowded  around  the  missionary,  imploring 
him  to  teach  them  how  to  build,  so  that  their  huts  might 
stand  as  fast  as  his  cross,  so  he  led  them  to  a  spot  near  it 
and  constructed  solid  stone  dwellings,  which  no  freshet 
could  ever  sweep  away  and  which,  standing  ''near  the 
cross,"  became  the  nucleus  of  the  present  town  of  Kreuz- 
nach. 


RHEINGRAFENSTEIN. 
TTbe  Devil  an&  tbe  Donftei?. 

A  NOBLEMAN,  in  scarch  of  a  site  for  his  castle,  once  saw 
the  mighty  porphyry  rocks  upon  which  Rheingrafenstein 
castle  is  now  perched,  and,  thinking  a  fortress  upon  such  an 
eyrie  would  be  well-nigh  impregnable,  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  build  upon  it.  In  answer  to  all  objections,  he  declared 
that  he  would  bespeak  the  devil's  aid,  if  need  be,  to  accom- 
plish his  purpose. 


P 


Satan,  hearing  himself  called  upon,  promptly  appeared 
before  the  nobleman,  and  promised  he  would  build  the  castle 
for  him  in  the  course  of  a  single  night,  if  he  would  only 
give  him  as  reward  the  first  living  creature  which  looked 
out  of  the  new  building's  windows.  The  nobleman  agreed 
and  withdrew,  and  when  he  reappeared  on  the  morrow, 
he  found  the  castle  completed.  But,  although  he  longed 
to  take  possession  of  it,  he  did  not  dare  do  so,  lest  the 
devil,  perched  upon  the  edge  of  the  roof,  should  secure 
him  if  he  ventured  to  look  out  of  the  window. 

In  his  perplexity,  the  poor  man  confided  his  troubles  to  his 
wife,  who,  being  **as  wise  as  the  serpent"  as  well  as  ''gen- 
tle as  the  dove,"  declared  she  knew  how  she  could  circum- 
vent the  fiend.  She  therefore  mounted  her  favorite  donkey, 
and  rode  up  into  the  new  castle,  bidding  all  the  men  follow 
her.  Satan,  well  pleased,  watched  them  file  slowly  into  the 
building  and  kept  a  sharp  lookout  upon  the  windows,  intend- 
ing to  swoop  down  from  above  upon  the  first  creature  which 
ventured  to  thrust  its  head  out  of  the  window,  and,  seizing  it 
by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  carry  it  away  without  further  ado. 
The  countess,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  brought  the  donkey 
into  the  hall,  pinned  a  kerchief  around  its  neck,  bound  a 
large  frilled  cap  over  its  ears,  and  leading  it  to  the  window 
let  it  thrust  its  head  out  into  the  open  air.  The  devil,  catch- 
ing a  glimpse  of  cap,  ribbons,  and  frills,  immediately  concluded 
he  was  about  to  secure  the  countess  herself,  and  swooping 
down,  caught  and  carried  away  his  prey,  discovering  his 
mistake  only  when  the  struggling  donkey  gave  vent  to  his 
feelings  by  a  loud  bray. 

Satan  was  so  disgusted  at  having  thus  been  cheated  that 
he  dropped  his  prey  on  the  rocks  below,  vanished  in  the 
midst  of  a  horrible  stench  of  brimstone  and  sulphur,  and 
never  again  visited  the  banks  of  the  Nahe,  where  he  had  been 
so  cleverly  deceived. 


236 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


SPRENDLINGEN. 

Hbc  :JButcber. 

A  HERALD  once  galloped  wildly  into  the  little  town  of 
Kreuznach,  summoning  the  people  to  arms.  The  enemy 
was  threatening  the  neighboring  town  of  Sponheim,  which 
their  valiant  lord  was  vainly  trying  to  save  by  engaging  the 
van  of  the  army  in  battle  at  Sprendlingen. 

The  people  of  Kreuznach  rushed  for  their  weapons 
and  began  to  muster,  but  the  butcher,  Michel  Mort, 
hearing  his  master  was  in  danger,  caught  up  his  sharpest 
cleaver,  rushed  out  of  his  shop,  and  hastened  to  Sprend- 
lingen as  fast  as  he  could  run.  There  he  plunged  into  the 
very  midst  of  the  fray,  hewing  ruthlessly  right  and  left,  and 
shouted  encouraging  words  to  his  master,  who  was  entirely 
surrounded  by  the  foe,-  and  about  to  give  up  in  despair. 

In  a  few  minutes'  time  butcher  and  knight  stood  side  by 
side,  and  began  their  retreat,  the  man  heroically  shielding 
and  defending  his  master.  He  succeeded  in  saving  him, 
although  at  the  cost  of  his  life,  for  the  enemy,  furious 
at  the  havoc  he  had  made  in  their  ranks,  rushed  simul- 
taneously upon  him  and  pierced  him  through  and  through 
with  their  spears. 

To  commemorate  this  fight  at  Sprendlingen,  and  to  honor 
the  heroic  butcher,  a  stone  has  been  erected  upon  the  very 
spot  where  he  fell,  while  a  carved  lion  on  the  Schlossberg 
near  Kreuznach  serves  still  further  to  testify  to  his  bravery. 


SPONHEIM. 
%\>z  XTnie  Cro00. 

The  count  of  Vianden,  who  had  led  a  wicked  and  lawless 
life,  once  fell  in  love  with  a  noble  lady.  She  told  him  she 
could  not  accept  him  until  he  had  proved  himself  worthy  of 
trust  by  performing  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Sepulcher,  to 


SPONHEIM. 


«S7 


obtain  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins,  bringing  back  a  holy  relic 
to  bestow  upon  her  as  a  wedding  gift.  This  penance, 
however  hard,  seemed  none  to  great  for  the  knight,  who 
immediately  departed  for  the  Holy  Land,  which  he  reached 
after  encountering  countless  dangers.  He  then  secured  a 
span  of  the  Holy  Cross  and  placed  it  in  a  casket  of  gold, 
upon  which  was  engraved  the  name  of  the  lady  he  loved. 

Slowly  and  painfully,  for  he  was  greatly  weakened  by  pri- 
vation and  fatigue,  the  count  now  wended  his  way  home, 
guarding  the  relic  night  and  day,  and  finally  embarked  upon 
the  Rhine,  thinking  all  dangers  were  over,  and  the  goal  of 
his  wishes  very  near.  Unfortunately,  however,  the  boat 
capsized,  and  when  the  count  recovered  his  senses  he 
found  he  had  been  saved  by  the  devotion  of  the  boatmen, 
but  that  the  precious  relic  was  lost. 

His  despair  was  terrible  to  behold,  for  he  felt  that  as  he 
now  had  no  proof  to  show  his  lady-love  that  he  had  obeyed 
her  and  obtained  the  forgiveness  of  all  former  sins,  she 
would  again  to  refuse  to  listen  to  his  pleadings.  As  he 
wished  to  see  her  once  more  before  he  withdrew  into  some 
monastery,  he  wended  his  way  to  her  castle,  and  was  quite 
overcome  when  she  rushed  out  to  meet  him  with  happy  tears 
coursing  down  her  cheeks. 

In  broken,  faltering  accents  he  told  his  story,  but  when 
he  would  fain  have  left  her,  after  telling  her  of  the  loss  of 
the  relic,  she  detained  him,  saying  that  a  handsome  youth 
had  passed  at  the  gate  that  very  morning.  He  had  given 
her  a  golden  casket  upon  which  her  name  was  engraved  and 
which  contained  a  piece  of  wood. 

As  the  angel  had  delivered  the  precious  relic  into 
the  lady's  hands  she  plighted  her  troth  to  the  count  of 
Vianden.  After  their  marriage  they  founded  the  castle, 
church,  and  abbey  of  Sponheim,  which  was  thus  named 
because  it  became  the  home  or  resting  place  of  a  span  of 
the  True  Cross,  which  miraculously  reached  its  destination 
and  turned  the  penitent  count's  sorrow  into  lasting  happiness. 


238 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


DHAUN. 

ITbe  Aonliei?  as  Vlur^e* 

One  of  the  Rheingrafs  once  lived  in  the  pretty  castle 
of  Dhaun,  of  which  nothing  but  ruins  now  remain.  He 
assigned  the  sunniest  room  for  the  nursery  of  his  little 
heir,  who,  although  motherless,  was  constantly  watched  and 
tended  by  a  faithful  old  nurse.  In  the  castle  there  was  also 
a  large-sized  monkey,  which  was  allowed  to  range  about  the 
place  at  will,  and  which  often  came  into  the  nursery  and 
gravely  sat  in  a  corner,  watching  the  nurse  handle  the  babe, 
and  amusing  it  by  its  queer  antics. 

One  day,  after  putting  her  little  charge  to  sleep,  the 
nurse  sat  down  beside  it,  as  usual,  and,  as  usual  also,  was 
soon  lost  in  slumbers  as  profound.  When  she  awoke  and 
glanced  at  the  cradle  she  was  terrified,  for  the  babe  was 
missing  I  The  poor  woman,  conjecturing  that  he  had  been 
stolen  by  gypsies,  and  fearing  her  master's  anger,  ran  and 
hid  in  the  depths  of  the  neighboring  forest. 

There  she  heard  a  peculiar  sound,  and  gazing  cautiously 
through  the  bushes,  saw  the  babe  seated  on  the  moss,  while 
the  monkey  amused  him  with  red  apples  and  gay  flowers, 
imitating  her  gestures  with  the  most  absurd  precision.  In 
a  few  moments,  however,  the  child  began  to  cry,  and  the 
monkey,  taking  it  up  gently,  began  to  dandle  it,  and  swing- 
ing gently  backward  and  forward  soon  put  it  to  sleep. 
Then  he  laid  it  down  on  the  soft  moss  and,  still  imitating 
the  old  woman  closely,  clasped  his  hands  in  his  lap  and  fell 
asleep. 

The  nurse  crept  cautiously  out  of  the  thicket,  recovered 
the  babe,  and  hastened  homeward.  She  found  the  whole 
castle  in  an  uproar,  for  they  had  been  missed,  so  she  was 
obliged  to  confess  all  that  had  occurred. 

In  gratitude  for  the  recovery  of  his  child,  the  Rheingraf 
placed  a  carving  above  the  gateway  representing  a  monkey 


OBERSTEIN. 


239 


amusing   a   babe   with   an   apple,  and    ever  since  then  the 
monkey  has  figured  on  the  escutcheon  of  that  noble  family. 


OBERSTEIN. 

B  Hlfelong  penance. 

The  castle  of  Oberstein,  on  the  Nahe,  a  tributary  of  the 
Rhine,  belonged  in  the  thirteenth  century  to  an  irascible 
lord  who  had  a  constitutional  aversion  to  cats.  One  day 
his  younger  brother  playfully  slipped  a  kitten  into  his  boot. 
The  lord  of  Oberstein  coming  in  contact  with  the  beast, 
and  discovering  b)^  his  brother's  merriment  that  he  had 
been  the  perpetrator  of  the  joke,  flew  into  a  violent  rage, 
and,  not  knowing  what  he  was  doing,  caught  and  flung 
the  youth  far  over  the  parapet,  down  the  rocky  wall 
into  the  Nahe,  where  he  was  drowned.  This  terrible 
murder  committed,  the  lord  of  Oberstein  felt  the  most 
intense  remorse,  and  assuming  a  pilgrim's  garb  he  wended 
his  way,  alone  and  on  foot,  to  Rome.  He  knelt  at  the 
Pope's  feet,  confessed  his  crime,  and  humbly  craved  for- 
giveness. But  the  Pope,  shocked  at  his  violence,  told  him 
that  he  must  do  penance  if  he  would  obtain  forgiveness  for 
his  sin,  and  condemned  him  to  relinquish  castle  and  wealth, 
reserving  nothing  but  a  hammer  and  chisel.  These  he  jvas 
to  use  to  hew  a  chapel  out  of  the  rock  over  which  he  had 
flung  his  only  brother,  and  when  the  chapel  was  finished  and 
ready  for  consecration  he  was  told  he  would  obta^tn  the  for- 
giveness of  his  sins. 

The  poor  pilgrim  slowly  wended  his  way  back  to  the  Nahe, 
disposed  of  castle  and  wealth,  and  with  hammer  and  chisel 
painfully  scrambled  up  the  steep  rock,  where  he  began  to 
hew  at  the  hard  stone.  From  early  morning  until  late  at 
night,  the  incessant  tapping  of  his  hammer  was  heard.  Day 
after  day,  month  after  month,  and  year  after  year,  the  peni- 


240 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE, 


tent  lord  of  Oberstein  labored  on,  advancing  by  almost  im- 
perceptible degrees,  watering  the  hard  stone  with  many  a 
repentant  tear,  and  persevering  in  spite  of  weakness  and 
advancing  age,  in  the  hope  of  at  last  obtaining  the  forgive- 
ness he  craved. 

When  he  was  very  old,  when  his  beard  was  white  as  snow, 
when  he  could  scarcely  hold  hammer  and  chisel  any  more,  a 
tiny  chapel  and  altar  had  been  hewed  out  of  the  solid  rock. 
The  people,  who  had  watched  its  progress,  went  in  search 
of  a  priest  to  consecrate  it,  promising  to  return  with  him  on 
the  morrow.  As  they  came  toward  the  little  chapel  they 
were  surprised  not  to  see  the  well-known  figure  at  the  door, 
and  hurrying  in  to  discover  what  had  become  of  him,  they 
found  the  lord  of  Oberstein  lying  dead  at  the  foot  of  the 
altar.  A  beautiful  smile  lingered  upon  the  face,  which,  fur- 
rowed by  repentant  -tears,  had  never  smiled  since  the  day 
when  a  violent  outburst  of  anger  had  blasted  all  his  life. 

The  peasants  buried  him  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  in  the 
chapel  he  had  hewed  out  of  the  rock  in  penance  for  his 
crime.  This  chapel,  duly  consecrated,  was  further  enlarged 
in  the  fourteenth  century,  and  is  now  the  parish  church  of 
Oberstein.  The  traveler  can  still  see  the  part  which  was 
hewn  by  the  penitent  lord. 


rOdesheim, 


A  FISHERMAN  once  paused  at  Riidesheim  to  pray  at  the 
shrine  of  St.  Nicholas.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was 
about  to  encounter  the  dangers  of  the  Bingerloch,  which  his 
companions  had  described  so  vividly  as  to  fill  his  simple 
heart  with  nameless  fear. 

"Oh,  good  St.  Nicholas,"  he  prayed,  **if  you  will  only 
guide  me  safely  over,  I  will  give  you  a  taper  as  tall  and 
thick   as  the  mast  of  my  vessel." 


GERMANIA. 
National   Monument. 


Niederwaid. 


rOdesheim, 


241 


Strengthened  by  this  prayer  he  re-entered  his  vessel, 
pushed  away  from  the  shore,  trimmed  his  sail,  and  was  soon 
gliding  over  the  dreaded  waters.  But  the  Bingerloch  was 
as  smooth  as  the  most  placid  lake.  The  boatman  looked 
around  him  in  wonder  and  then  exclaimed: 

"  Fool  that  I  was  to  believe  my  companions'  tales  of  the 
Bingerloch,  and  to  stop  and  pray  at  St.  Nicholas'  shrine  !  I 
won't  give  him  the  big  taper  I  promised,  but  a  two-penny 
dip  !  " 

Scarcely  had  these  words  left  his  lips,  however,  than  the 
smooth  waters  became  rough,  and  the  gentle  breeze  changed 
into  a  hurricane.  The  Uttle  bark,  caught  in  the  terrible 
eddy,  was  whirled  about  and  suddenly  sucked  down  into  the 
vortex  with  the  boatman  and  all  his  crew. 

Since  then  the  vows  made  at  St.  Nicholas'  shrine  have 
been  scrupulously  paid,  for  all  the  river  boatmen  are  afraid 
of  suffering  the  fate  of  their  sacriligious  companion. 


fian0  JStoentdet* 

Very  near  the  city  of  Rudesheim,  which  is  principally 
renowned  for  its  excellent  wines,  are  the  ruins  of  the  castle  of 
Niederburg.  This  place  once  belonged  to  Hans  Broemser, 
who,  won  by  the  eloquence  of  St.  Bernard,  took  part  in  the 
second  crusade. 

Broemser  left  his  home  and  lovely  daughter,  and  went 
forth  to  fight  the  Saracens.  Once  he  was  attacked  by  a 
terrible  dragon,  which  guarded  the  only  spring  where  water 
could  be  obtained  to  quench  the  burning  thirst  of  the  weary 
crusaders.  Although  many  knights  had  already  lost  their 
lives  in  trying  to  slay  this  monster,  Broemser  attacked  him 
boldly,  and,  after  a  fierce  struggle,  left  him  lifeless,  and  cut 
out  his  tongue  as  a  memento  of  his  victory. 

As  he  was  wending  his  way  back  to  camp,  however,  he 


i42 


LEGENDS  OF    THE   RHINE. 


was  surprised  by  a  band  of  Saracens,  who  chained  him  fast 
in  a  foul  dung^eon.  There  he  Hngered  for  several  years, 
praying  for  deliverance,  and  vowing  that  he  would  build  a 
convent,  and  make  his  only  daughter  take  the  veil,  if  he 
were  only  allowed  to  see  his  native  land  once  more. 

In  answer  to  this  prayer,  the  Christians  soon  took  the 
town  and  delivered  him.  Broemser  wended  his  way  back 
to  Germany,  carrying  his  chains  and  the  dragon's  tongue, 
which  he  showed  to  his  lovely  daughter  Gisella,  as  he 
recounted  his  adventures  and   escape. 

**  And  now,  my  daughter,"  he  added,  **  I  must  tell  you  the 
nature  of  my  vow,  for  you  are  bound  to  fulfill  it.  I  promised 
to  build  a  convent,  in  which  you  would  take  the  veil,  and 
spend  the  remainder  of  your  life  in  serving  God." 

Gisella  heard  this  and  grew  pale  with  horror,  for  she  loved 
a  young  knight  of  the  neighborhood,  who  had  only  waited 
for  her  father's  return  to  claim  her  as  his  wife.  She  now  fell 
at  Broemser's  feet,  imploring  him  not  to  sacrifice  her  and 
make  her  assume  vows  which  would  be  so  very  distasteful. 
All  these  entreaties  were,  however,  of  no  avail,  and  the 
maiden,  hearing  her  father  declare  she  must  obey  him, 
rushed  wildly  out  of  the  room  and  flung  herself  over  the 
castle  ramparts  into  the  rushing  waters  of  the  Rhine,  where 
she  perished. 

Early  on  the  morrow  some  fishermen  found  her  body  at 
the  foot  of  the  Rat  Tower,  and  reverently  carried  it  home 
for  burial.  But  ever  since  then,  the  maiden's  uneasy  spirit 
is  said  to  haunt  the  ruins,  and  every  night,  with  a  shriek  of 
despair,  her  wraith  rushes  up  to  the  tower,  from  whence  she 
throws  herself  again  into  the  Rhine. 

It  is  said,  however,  that  her  tragic  death  did  not  produce 
much  effect  upon  Hans  Broemser,  who  soon  forgot  his  vow 
and  spent  all  his  time  in  revelry.  One  night,  however,  the 
dragon  again  appeared  before  him,  but  as  it  opened  its 
capacious  jaws  to  devour  him,  Gisella's  spirit  drove  it  away. 
At  the  same  moment  Broemser  was  awakened  by  the  clank 


JOHANNISBERG.  243 

of  his  chains  which  had  fallen  from  the  peg  upon  which  they 
had  long  been  hung. 

While  Hans  was  musing  over  his  strange  dream  the  next 
morning,  one  of  his  servants  came  to  announce  that  the 
plowman,  in  tracing  a  furrow,  had  found  an  image  of  the 
Saviour,  which  had  called  aloud  for  help  as  the  plow 
touched  it.  This  miracle  caused  Broemser  to  remember  his 
vow,  and  he  immediately  began  the  construction  of  the 
church  and  cloister  of  Noth  Gottes,  on  the  exact  spot  where 
the  miraculous  image  was  found. 

The  church  and  convent  are  still  extant,  and  there,  among 
many  other  curious  relics,  the  traveler  can  see  the  dragon 
tongue,  the  chains  which  Hans  Broemser  brought  back  from 
Palestine,  and  the  image  which  is  considered  particularly 
sacred. 


JOHANNISBERG. 

tCbe  (Iorh6crew0, 

The  beautiful  castle  of  Johannisberg,  now  the  property 
of  Prince  Metternich,  stands  in  the  midst  of  the  most  pro- 
ductive vineyards  along  the  Rhine.  This  castle  is  built  on 
the  site  of  an  old  monastery  or  abbey  dedicated  to  St.  John, 
and  if  the  legend  is  true,  it  is  very  evident  that  those  ancient 
monks  knew  how  to  appreciate  the  product  of  their  own 
vines. 

One  day  the  prior  of  the  abbey  invited  all  the  brethren  to 
accompany  him  on  an  inspection  tour  of  the  monastery 
vineyards.  This  invitation  was  accepted  with  very  evident 
pleasure  by  all.  After  they  had  walked  a  long  while  along 
the  sunny  slopes,  between  the  loaded  vines,  they  reached 
a  shady  spot.  The  prior  then  proposed  that  they  should 
all  sit  down,  rest  and  refresh  themselves  morally  and 
physically  by  reading  the  afternoon  prayers  and  drinking  a 


»44  LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 

few  bottles  of  delicious  old  wine  which  they  had  brought 
with  them  for  this  purpose. 

Again  the  monks  joyfully  acquiesced,  but  when  the  prior 
asked  for  a  breviary,  they  all  hung  their  heads  and  shame- 
facedly confessed  that  they  had  forgotten  to  bring  them 
along  The  jovial  prior  good-naturedly  remarked  that  since 
there  was  no  prayer-book  handy  they  would  forego  spintuaf 
refreshment  and  proceed  with  the  physical.  He  therefore 
took  up  one  of  the  bottles  and  vainly  attempted  to  remove 
the  cork  with  his  fingers.  Suddenly  turning  to  the  assembled 
brothers,  he  asked  whether  any  of  them  had  thought  of 
bringing  a  corkscrew.  . 

Simultaneously  the  monks  thrust  their  hands  into  their 
capacious  pockets,  and  a  moment  later  each  eagerly  tendered 
a  corkscrew  for  the  prelate's  use.  The  prelate  accepted 
one  of  them,  uncorked-  one  of  the  bottles,  and  as  he  was 
about  to  raise  the  goblet  of  sparkling  wine  to  his  thirsty  lips, 
he  dryly  remarked  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye:  "  Not  a 
single  breviary,  but  plenty  of  corkscrews.  Is  that  a  proof 
of  your  zeal  in  serving  the  Lord  ?  " 

The  monks  all  hung  their  heads  and  quaffed  the  wine  in 
silence  but  their  temporary  embarrassment  soon  passed 
away  and  ere  long  they  were  all  drinking  merrily,  and 
showing  their  loyalty  by  repeatedly  pledging  their  favorite 
saint  John. 


1  \MGE  WINKEL. 
Ebe  5ilv>er  JSriDgc. 

Opposite  the  hamlet  of  Kempten  is  the  little  village  of 
Lange  Winkel,  which  is  said  to  have  been  so  dear  to  Charle- 
magne, that  his  spirit  haunts  it  still,  as  is  set  forth  by 
Geibel's  lovely  verses: 


LANGE    WIXKEL. 


HS 


THE   SILVER  BRmCE. 

On  the  Rhine, — the  ^reen  Rhine — in  the  soft  summer  night, 
The  vineyards  lie  sleeping  beneath  the  moon's  light  ; 
But  lo  !  there's  a  shadow  on  green  hill  and  glade, 
Like  the  form  of  a  king  in  grandeur  arrayed. 

Yes,  yes  !  'tis  the  monarch  that  erst  ruled  this  land, 
It  is  old  Charlemagne,  with  his  sword  in  his  hand, 
And  his  crown  on  his  head,  and  his  scepter  of  gold. 
And  the  purple  imperial  in  many  a  rich  fold. 

Long  ages  have  fled  since  he  lived  in  this  life. 

Whole  nations  have  perished  by  time  or  by  strife 

Since  he  swayed  with  a  power  never  known  from  his  birth; 

What  brings  his  great  spirit  to  wander  on  earth  ? 

He  hath  come  from  his  tomb  that's  in  Aix-la-Chapelle. 
He  hath  come  to  the  stream  which  he  once  loved  so  well. 
Not  to  ban  nor  to  blight  with  his  presence  the  scene. 
But  to  bless  the  blithe  vineyards  by  Luna's  soft  sheen. 

The  moonbeams  they  make  a  brave  bridge  o'er  the  Rhine. 
From  Winkel  to  Ingelheim  brightly  they  shine. 
Behold  !  by  this  bridge  the  old  monarch  goes  over. 
And  blesses  the  flood  with  the  warmth  of  a  lover. 

He  blesses  each  vineyard  on  plain  and  on  hill ; 
Each  village,  each  cottage,  his  blessing  doth  fill  ; 
He  blesses  each  spot,  on  the  shore,  on  the  river, 
Which  he  loved  in  his  life — which  forget  he  can  never. 

• 
And  then  from  the  house  that  he  still  loves  so  well, 
He  returns  to  his  tomb  that's  in  Aix-la-Chapelle, 
There  to  slumber  in  peace  till  the  old  year  is  over, 
And  the  vineyards  once  more  woo  him  back  like  a  lover. 

— GeibeL     Tratislated  by  Snowe. 


Whenever  the  emperor's  mighty  shadow  is  thus  seen  to 
cross  over  the  moon-light  bridge,  the  vineyards  are  sure  to 
be  filled  with  rich  clusters  of  grapes,  and  the  wine  is  par- 


2  46 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


ticularly  mellow  and  sweet,  but  when   he   omits   his  j^early 
visit  the  vintage  is  sure  to  be  very  poor. 


OESTRICH. 

Near  the  village  of  Oestrich  once  rose  the  renowned  con- 
vent of  Gottesthal,  where  many  a  holy  nun  spent  her  life  in 
penance  and  prayer. 

The  legends  relate  that  a  neighboring  knight,  falling 
desperately  in  love  with  one  of  the  convent  inmates,  pre- 
vailed upon  her  to  forget  her  vows  and  meet  him  every  even- 
ing in  the  chapel.  There  he  promised  ever  to  be  faithful  to 
her,  even  if  they  could  never  be  married,  owing  to  her  vows. 

The  knight  was  a  rover,  however,  and  soon  forgot  the 
pretty  nun,  who  pined  and  grew  pale  when  she  heard  he  was 
courting  another.  The  rumor  of  these  doings  was  soon 
confirmed,  and  the  perjured  nun,  mad  with  jealousy  and 
despair,  hired  an  assassin  to  slay  the  lover  who  had  deceived 
and  deserted  her. 

The  knight's  remains  were  duly  interred  in  the  Gottesthal 
chapel,  where  he  had  come  so  often  to  make  love  to  the  little 
nun,  and  when  the  midnight  hour  struck,  the  door  opened, 
a  closely-veiled  figure  stole  to  his  tomb,  opened  it,  and 
with  muttered  curses  and  shrieks  of  rage  tore  his  base 
heart  out  of  his  body  and  trampled  it  wildly  under  foot. 

The  veiled  figure  was  the  nun,  driven  insane  by  remorse 
and  grief,  and  many  years  after  that  her  ghost  returned 
at  midnight,  dragged  the  knight  from  his  tomb,  tore  out  his 
heart  and  trampled  it,  while  her  shrieks  echoed  through  the 
ruins.  Now  no  trace  of  convent  or  chapel  remains,  and  the 
ghost  is  no  longer  seen,  but  her  despairing  cries  of  rage  can 


INGLEHEIM. 


247 


i 


still  be  heard  from  time  to  time,  and  the  people  of  Oestrich 
declare  she  still  hates  her  false  lover. 


<< 


Since  then  long  time  has  passed  but  still, 

Old  legends  say  that  she 

Till  cock  crow  tarries  in  that  aisle, 

Aye  shrieking  fearfully. 

And  that,  when  tolls  the  midnight  bell. 

She  seeks  his  monument  ; 

And  from  it  brings,  with  looks  so  fell, 

A  heart  with  blood  besprent." 

— Legends  of  the  Rhine. 


INGELHEIM. 
Charlemagne  aiiD  J8lbeaa»t. 

Charlemagne  had  come  to  inspect  his  new  palace  near  the 
Rhine.  As  he  lay  asleep  in  his  room,  the  very  first  night, 
he  was  honored  by  the  visit  of  an  angel,  who,  standing  at 
the  foot  of  his  bed,  solemnly  bade  him  arise,  go  forth  and 
steal. 

This  command,  coming  from  an  angel,  seemed  so  incon- 
gruous, that  it  had  to  be  thrice  repeated  ere  the  emperor  rose 
noiselessly  from  his  couch.  He  stole  unseen  to  the  stable, 
saddled  his  horse,  and  rode  out  of  the  palace  armed  cap-a- 
pie^  ready  to  attack  any  traveler  along  the  highway  and 
despoil  him,  as  the  angel  had  commanded.  He  had  not 
gone  very  far,  however,  before  he  met  a  knight,  apparently 
bound  on  the  same  errand,  whom  he  challenged,  fought 
against,  and  brought  to  the  ground.  There  he  held  the 
point  of  his  sword  to  the  man's  throat,  demanding  his  name 
and  standing,  but  when  he  heard  it  was  Elbegast,  a  notorious 
robber  knight  whom  he  had  long  been  trying  to  secure,  he 
bade  him  rise  and  accompany  him  on  a  predatory  excursion. 

Nothing  loath,  Elbegast  joined  his  conqueror,  little  sus- 
pecting it  was  the  renowned  Charlemagne,  and  hearing  him 


24^ 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


declare  that  he  had  vowed  not  to  return  home  until  he;  had 
robbed  someone,  led  him  to  the  house  of  one  of  his  min- 
isters, where,  thanks  to  his  cunning,  they  soon  effected  an 
entrance.  Bidding  the  emperor  wait  for  him,  Elbegast 
glided  noiselessly  into  the  minister's  bedroom,  and  there, 
crouching  in  the  darkness,  overheard  him  confide  to  his 
wife  a  plot  for  Charlemagne's  assassination  on  the  morrow. 

Elbegast  returned  to  hjs  waiting  companion,  and  implored 
him  to  %o  and  warn  the  emperor  of  the  threatened  danger. 
After  they  had  secured  a  few  worthless  trifles,  the  chance 
companions  parted,  one  returning  to  his  stronghold,  and 
the  other  wending  his  way  back  to  the  palace,  which  he 
re-entered  unheard  and  unseen. 

Thanks  to  the  information  gleaned  during  the  night, 
Charlemagne  cleverly  outwitted  and  secured  the  conspira- 
tors, whom  he  generously  pardoned  upon  their  promise  of 
future  loyalty.  Then  having  obtained  an  interview  with 
Elbegast,  he  revealed  to  him  that  his  conqueror  and  com- 
panion in  theft  was  none  other  than  Charlemagne,  who  owed 
his  life  to  the  angel's  warning. 

Elbegast  was  so  amazed  at  these  tidings,  and  so  pene- 
trated with  admiration  for  the  only  man  who  had  ever  been 
able  to  disarm  him,  that  he  forsook  his  evil  practices  and  be- 
came a  devoted  attendant  of  Charlemagne,  who  made  good 
use  of  his  sagacity  and  courage. 

In  commemoration  of  the  angelic  visit,  received  during 
his  first  sojourn  in  his  new  palace,  Charlemagne  called  it 
Ingelheim,  the  angel's  home.  The  place  has  borne  this 
name  ever  since  although  the  palace  has  long  fallen  into 
ruins,  and  the  only  fragments  of  it  which  now  remain  are 
the  columns  incorporated  in  a  part  of  the  picturesque  castle 
of  Heidelberg. 


KEDRICH. 


249 


KEDRICH. 

Above  Lorch,  near  the  entrance  of  the  Wisperthal,  stand 
the  ruins  of  the  ancient  castle  of  Nollich,  which  was  once 
inhabited  by  a  stern  and  tyrannous  knight,  Libo  von  Lorch. 
His  heart  was  tender  only  toward  Gerlinda,  his  little 
daughter.  He  was  so  grim  and  discourteous  that  he  even  re- 
fused to  show  common  hospitality,  and  roughly  dismissed  the 
belated  travelers  who  paused  for  food  and  shelter  at  his  gates. 

One  stormy  night  the  lord  of  Lorch  turned  a  poor  old 
man  away,  laughing  scornfully  when  the  trembling  fist  was 
shaken  in  wrath,  and  the  cracked  old  voice  warned  him 
that  he  would  have  cause  to  repent  of  his  cruelty,  and 
would  rue  this  refusal  for  many  a  day.  This  prediction  was 
only  too  soon  fulfilled,  however,  for  early  on  the  morrow 
Libo  von  Lorcli  learned  that  his  fair  little  daughter  had 
been  carried  away  by  a  dwarf.  He  had  conveyed  her  to 
the  huge  rock  towering  far  above  his  castle.  The  father 
rushed  toward  the  window,  and  looking  eagerly  up  to  the 
top  of  the  rocky  wall,  saw  that  the  tidings  were  true,  for 
there  stood  Gerlinda,  holding  out  her  hands  to  him  as  if  to 
implore  him  to  come  to  her  rescue. 

In  vain  the  frantic  father  made  every  effort  to  scale  the 
rock,  in  vain  he  promised  large  rewards  to  anyone  who 
would  restore  his  daughter,  the  dwarf  guarded  her  securely, 
and  defeated  the  efforts  of  all  who  tried  to  reach  her,  by 
pelting  them  with  stones.  Several  years  passed  by,  and 
although  Libo  von  Lorch  knew  his  daughter  was  well, — for 
she  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  rock  for  a  moment  morning 
and  evening, — he  could  not  obtain  access  to  her. 

The  poor  father  was  so  grieved  at  her  loss  that  he  forgot 
his  old  imperious  ways,  entertained  all  travelers  with  lavish 
hospitality,  prayed  at  all  the  neighboring  shrines,  and  vowed 
to  bestow  rich  gifts  upon  every  saint  in  the  calendar,  if  they 


a5o 


LEGENDS  OF   THE   RHINE. 


would  only  help  him  to  recover  his  child.  One  evening 
he  entertained  a  returning  crusader,  Sir  Ruthelm,  who, 
hearing  the  cause  of  his  grief,  vowed  to  rescue  the  captive 
maiden  or  perish  in  the  attempt.  The  impetuous  knight 
called  for  his  horse  and  immediately  rode  off  to  try  and  find 
some  means  of  scaling  the  rocky  wall.  But  all  his  search 
proved  vain,  and  he  was  about  to  postpone  further  efforts 
until  the  morrow,  when  a  dwarf  suddenly  stepped  out  of 
the  crevice  and  mockingly  promised  him  the  hand  of  the 
fair  Gerlinda  if  he  would  only  scale  the  wall. 

Before  Sir  Ruthelm  could  answer  the  dwarf  had  vanished. 
A  moment  later  another  appeared,  gave  him  a  silver  bell, 
bade  him  hasten  to  the  Wisperthal,  summon  the  gnomes  by 
ringing  it  there,  and  ask  them  to  build  a  ladder  up  the 
Kedrich,  as  the  rocky  precipice  was  called,  and  have  it 
ready  before  sunrise  on'the  morrow. 

Of  course  the  knight  implicitly  carried  out  all  these 
instructions,  and,  before  sunrise  on  the  morrow  he  found  a 
ladder  reaching  to  the  very  top  of  the  wall.  He  quickly 
climbed  up,  and  encountering  the  dwarf,  bade  him  fulfill  his 
promise  and  give  him  the  fair  Gerlinda  as  wife.  The  dwarf, 
well  pleased  at  the  young  man's  daring,  bade  him  return  by 
the  way  he  had  come,  telling  him  Gerlinda  would  meet  him  at 
the  foot  of  the  rock.  And  as  soon  as  Sir  Ruthelm  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  ladder  the  fair  damsel  stepped  out  of  a 
crevice,  placed  her  hand  in  his,  and  allowed  him  to  conduct 
her  to  her  father's  castle  where  they  were  duly  married  and 
lived  happy  for  many  a  year. 

According  to  another  legend,  a  knight  of  Nollich  once 
left  his  newly-won  bride  to  take  part  in  a  crusade,  but  over- 
come with  the  longing  to  see  her  once  more  he  soon 
deserted  the  holy  cause  and  rapidly  made  his  way  home. 
On  arriving  at  Lorch,  however,  he  heard  that  his  lovely 
bride  had  been  carried  away  by  a  robber  knight,  whose  castle 
was  perched  on  top  of  the  Kedrich  and  was  simply  inacces- 
sible to  all. 


ELFELD. 


«5i 


The  knight  of  Nollich,  after  vainly  striving  to  scale  the 
wall,  knowing  that  God  would  no  longer  help  a  man  who 
had  deserted  his  holy  cause,  now  wildly  appealed  to  the 
devil.  In  exchange  for  the  knight's  soul  Satan  enabled 
him  to  ride  straight  up  the  rocky  wall,  where  his  horse's 
hoofprints  can  still  be  seen.  Then  he  rode  into  the 
castle  and  rescued  his  lovely  wife,  who  soon  after  died  from 
the  results  of  her  long  imprisonment. 

Inconsolable  for  her  loss,  the  knight,  who  could  no  longer 
hope  to  join  her  pure  spirit  in  heaven,  committed  suicide, 
and  the  devil  took  charge  of  his  soul.  In  proof  of  the  truth 
of  this  tradition,  the  inhabitants  of  Lorch  exhibit  the  saddle 
upon  which  the  knight  sat  as  he  climbed  the  steep  precipice, 
where  they  also  point  out  the  marks  of  his  horse's  hoofs. 


ELFELD. 

c:be  "Rope  ot  t)alr. 

A  RECKLESS  knight  called  Ferdinand  once  dwelt  at 
Elfcld  on  the  Rhine.  When  he  had  duly  squandered  all 
his  patrimony  and  found  himself  too  poor  to  purchase  an 
outfit  to  attend  a  tournament  given  in  honor  of  the  queen, 
he  vowed  life  was  no  longer  worth  living,  and  rushed  out  of 
the  castle  to  commit  suicide. 

He  was  about  to  cast  himself  headlong  into  the  river, 
when  Satan  suddenly  appeared  before  him  and  offered  him 
a  heavy  purse  of  gold  in  exchange  for  a  single  hair.  The 
knight  accepted,  the  exchange  was  made,  and  the  devil 
vanished,  promising  to  return  whenever  the  knight  sum- 
moned him,  and  to  furnish  an  equal  sum  of  pure  gold  for 
every  hair  which  he  was  allowed  to  pluck  from  Ferdinand's 
head. 

The  sum  thus  furnished  by  Satan  was  quite  sufificient  for 
the  knight's  present  needs,  so  he  spent  it  gayly.     When  it 


252 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


* 


was  exhausted  he  pronounced  the  formula  taught  him,  ^nd  in 
exchange  for  another  hair  received  another  bagful  of  gold. 
Little  by  little,  however,  the  knight  grew  more  reckless,  the 
devil's  visits  more  frequent,  and  the  knight's  head  soon 
became  so  very  bald  that  it  attracted  much  playful  attention 
on  the  part  of  his  friends. 

Finally,  after  a  long,  dissipated  life,  the  knight  fell  danger- 
ously ill,  and  unwilling  to  bear  the  pain  he  suffered  he 
would  fain  have  committed  suicide,  but  had  no  strength  left 
to  go  in  search  of  his  sword  to  plunge  it  into  his  breast. 
While  he  was  bemoaning  his  helplessness  and  loudly  calling 
for  someone  to  come  and  end  his  wretched  existence,  the 
devil  suddenly  appeared  before  him,  gave  him  a  rope 
fashioned  entirely  out  of  the  hair  plucked  from  his  head, 
and  told  him  that,  forseeing  the  end,  he  had  fashioned  it 
into  a  noose  so  that  he  might  hang  himself. 

When  the  doctors  came  to  visit  their  patient  on  the 
morrow  they  found  him  dead,  with  a  hair  noose  drawn  tight 
around  his  neck,  and  an  expression  of  fear  upon  his  dead 
face,  for  the  devil  in  departing  had  carried  away  his  soul. 


BIBERICH. 

(Tbc  (5bO0tli2  ITnterview. 

Near  the  picturesque  little  towns  of  Biberich  and 
Mosbach,  which  stand  so  close  together  that  they  form  but 
one  and  the  same  place,  is  the  pretty  castle  of  the  Duke  of 
Nassau,  surrounded  by  tasteful  grounds,  in  which  the  ruins 
of  the  ancient  palace  of  Louis,  the  German,  can  still  be  seen. 

The  legend  relates  that  shortly  after  the  completion  of 
this  castle  the  wife  of  the  founder  died.  Her  body  was 
duly  shrouded  and  laid  in  state  in  the  castle  hall,  while 
fifty  men  of  the  duke's  body  guard  marched  to  and  fro 
around  the  castle  and  along  the  corridors,  keeping  watch 
over  the  mortuary  chamber.  They  had  been  at  their  post 
since  early  morn,  and  the  night  was  far  advanced,  when  the 


MAINZ. 


«53 


1 


silence  was  suddenly  broken  by  the  arrival  of  a  coach.  In 
it  sat  the  principal  lady  of  the  bedchamber,  who,  closely 
veiled,  stepped  out,  and  gliding  past  the  sentinels,  would 
fain  have  entered  the  great  hall  where  the  dead  duchess 
lay    in    state. 

One  of  the  sentinels  challenged  her,  however,  and  it  was 
only  when  she  had  told  her  name — and  raising  her  veil  had 
shown  her  pale  and  rigid  countenance — that  he  allowed  her 
to  enter  and  close  the  door.  As  the  man  was  not  sure  he 
had  done  right,  however,  and  wondered  what  the  principal 
lady  of  the  bedchamber  could  still  have  to  do  with  her  mis- 
tress, he  peeped  through  the  keyhole.  Suddenly  he  started 
back  in  amazement,  calling  for  the  captain,  who,  looking 
through  the  same  aperture,  beheld  the  dead  duchess  sitting 
up,  and  talking  excitedly  to  the  principal  lady  of  the  bed- 
chamber. 

Before  he  could  utter  a  word,  however,  the  duchess  sank 
back  in  her  former  corpse-like  rigidity,  and  the  lady  of  the 
bedchamber,  gliding  out,  remounted  her  chariot,  and  drove 
rapidly  away.  Captain  and  sentinel  were  so  bewildered  by 
what  they  had  seen  that  they  kept  the  adventure  secret, 
but  when  they  heard  on  the  morrow  that  the  principal  lady 
of  the  bedchamber  had  died  of  grief  on  hearing  of  the 
duchess*  decease,  they  concluded  they  had  witnessed  an 
interview  between  the  dead,  and  told  the  story  to  silence 
some  of  their  companions  who  asserted  they  did  not  believe 
in  ghosts. 


MAINZ. 


Mainz,  one  of  the  oldest  cities  along  the  Rhine,  is  situated 
at  the  junction  of  the  Main,  and  boasts  of  one  of  the  oldest 
and  finest  cathedrals  in  Germany.  The  present  sacred  edi- 
fice, which  was  founded  in  the  tenth  century,  has  six  times 


254 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


been  a  prey  to  the  flames,  and  has  repeatedly  been  desecrated 
by  soldiers,  who  have  used  it  as  barracks,  stable,  and  even  as 
slaughter  house. 

The  various  ravages  of  time  have  been  repaired  as  well  as 
possible,  however,  and  the  cathedral  of  Mainz  now  stands  as 
a  monument  of  the  various  styles  of  architecture  of  bygone 
ages.  Under  its  mighty  roof  are  the  tombs  of  Frastrada, 
wife  of  Charlemagne,  and  of  the  great  Meistersinger  P'rauen- 
lob.  He  was  borne  to  his  tomb  by  the  ladies  of  the  town, 
one  of  whom  is  represented  bending  over  his  grave,  just  as 
she  stood  when  she  died  of  grief  at  his  loss. 

The  image  of  the  Virgin  in  the  cathedral  is  said  to  be 
a  miracle-working  statue.  The  old  women  of  Mainz 
relate  that  a  poor  old  musician,  finding  that  no  one  would 
listen  to  his  antiquated  tunes,  stole  starving  into  the  cathe- 
dral, and  after  praying* fervently  for  aid,  played  an  air  upon 
his  fiddle  in  honor  of  Heaven's  queen. 

The  Virgin,  touched  by  the  old  man's  distress,  daintily 
raised  her  jewel-incrusted  robe,  and  deftly  kicked  one  of  her 
little  golden  slippers  into  the  tattered  hat,  which  the  old 
fiddler  had  deposited  on  the  pavement  before  her.  Tremul- 
ous with  gratitude  at  the  unexpected  charity,  the  old  man 
fervently  spoke  his  thanks,  and  hastening  off  to  a  neighbor- 
ing goldsmith,  tried  to  sell  the  little  golden  shoe  to  obtain 
bread. 

The  goldsmith  questioned  him,  demurred,  and  finally 
arrested  him.  A  few  hours  later  the  poor  old  man,  accused 
of  sacrilegious  theft,  was  judged,  sentenced  to  death,  and 
hurried  off  to  the  place  of  execution,  accompanied  by  a 
hooting  populace.  As  he  was  dragged  past  the  cathedral 
door  he  implored  permission  to  say  a  last  prayer  at  the 
Virgin's  shrine,  and  was  permitted  to  kneel  before  her,  with 
his  hat  and  fiddle  beside  him. 

Tremulously  the  old  fiddler  implored  Mary  to  open  the 
Gates  of  Paradise  for  him,  and  when  he  had  ended  again 
played  his  little  hymn,  declaring  the  last  music  he  ever  made 


o 

> 

r 


> 

N 


J 


ti 


MAINZ. 


«55 


would  be  in  honor  of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  While  he  was 
playing  thus,  his  tearful  eyes  fixed  upon  the  statue  above 
him,  the  Virgin,  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled  multitude, 
again  lifted  her  robe,  and  deliberately  kicked  her  second 
golden  shoe  down  into  the  tattered  hat. 

This  second  miracle,  which  all  had  seen,  convinced  the 
people  that  the  minstrel  had  been  unjustly  condemned,  and 
the  priest,  coming  forward,  offered  to  redeem  the  shoes  for 
a  small  pension  which  would  give  him  food  for  the  rest  of 
his  life.  The  fiddler  accepted,  and  the  priests,  having 
recovered  the  precious  shoes,  carefully  locked  them  up  in 
the  treasury,  lest  the  Virgin  should  again  be  tempted  to 
bestow  them  upon  some  penniless  beggar  who  prayed  for 
her  aid. 


Once,  when  the  French  army  occupied  Mainz,  and  the 
country,  devastated  by  war,  was  groaning  under  the  harsh 
rule  of  the  invader,  the  young  ladies  of  Mainz,  instigated  by 
the  beautiful  young  Countess  of  Stein,  solemnly  vowed  that 
they  would  neither  marry  nor  listen  to  a  word  of  love  from 
any  man  until  their  country  was  entirely  free. 

The  Frenchmen,  hearing  of  this  league,  and  seeing  that 
it  stimulated  the  ardor  of  their  foes  to  attack  them  with 
renewed  courage,  angrily  resolved  to  make  an  example  of 
the  young  Countess  of  Stein.  They  dragged  her  a  pris- 
oner into  the  city,  publicly  thrust  a  broom  in  her  hand,  and 
bade  her  sweep  the  principal  street. 

Instead  of  bursting  into  tears  as  they  expected,  the  noble 
girl  grasped  her  broom  firmly,  and  gazing  upward,  prayed 
aloud:  **God  of  my  fatherland,  bless  my  sweeping,  and 
as  I  sweep  the  highway,  grant  that  the  enemy  may  be 
swept  from  our  land."  Then  she  set  vigorously  to  work, 
sweeping  very  clean,  and  although  the  Frenchmen  stood  on 


256 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


either  side  the  street,  twisting  their  mustaches  until  they 
stood  straight  out  like  needles,  and  waiting  to  hear  the  people 
jeer,  they  saw  nothing  but  uncovered  heads  and  heard  noth- 
ing but  low  and  fervent  ejaculation  of:  **God  bless  the 
sweeping!"  Fired  by  the  courage  of  the  young  countess 
the  men  now  fought  with  a  will,  and  succeeded  at  last  in 
sweeping  the  enemy  completely  out  of  their  land. 


MAINZ. 


•57 


to  heaven,  and  even  there  you  dared  indulge  in  your  thiev- 
ish  propensities !  Away  with  you,  no  punishment  can  be  too 
severe  for  such  a  base  pilferer  !  " 

Then  the  archbishop  gave  orders  that  the  man  should  be 
put  in  the  stocks  on  the  market  place,  near  the  fountain 
where  the  people  all  collected  to  hear  the  herald  read  an 
account  of  his  crime,  and  hooted  and  jeered  at  him  until 
they  were  tired. 


B  TCbf  et  in  Deavetu 

An  old  tenth  century  ballad,  which  has  been  preserved  in 
the  original  words  and  meter,  relates  how  a  false  prophet 
once  came  to  Mainz,  pretending  he  had  visited  both  heaven 
and  hell,  and  offering  to  teach  a  sure  method  of  reaching 
either. 

The  archbishop  of  Mainz,  afraid  lest  this  loud-spoken 
man  should  exert  an  evil  influence  upon  the  credulous  peo- 
ple, summoned  him  into  his  presence  and  bade  him  relate 
his  visit  to  heaven.  He  added  that  while  he  could  easily 
imagine  horrors  enough  to  stock  the  infernal  regions,  his 
fancy  was  utterly  incapable  of  picturing  the  delights  of  the 
heavenly  mansions.  The  false  prophet,  somewhat  embar- 
rassed at  being  questioned  by  the  archbishop  himself,  now 
lamely  began  to  tell  how  he  had  seen  the  Saviour  and  St. 
John,  seated  at  a  richly-spread  board,  eating  and  drinking, 
while  Peter,  with  heated  countenance,  bent  over  the  steam- 
ing pots  and  kettles  in  the  kitchen. 

The  archbishop  quietly  remarked  that  he  had  always  been 
told  that  St.  Peter  was  heaven's  porter  and  not  heaven's 
cook,  and  abruptly  inquired  where  the  false  prophet  had  sat 
to  obtain  such  a  good  view  of  all  that  was  going  on. 

*  i  !  "  exclaimed  the  impostor.  *'Why,  I  was  in  a  corner, 
and  while  St.  Peter  was  not  looking  I  stole  a  bit  of  meat 
which  was  too  delicious  for  words." 

**  Wretch  !"  cried   the  archbishop.      **  You  were  admitted 


TTbe  0oiD»niub» 

Hatto,  the  treacherous  bishop  of  Mainz,  was  very  anx- 
ious mdeed  to  get  rid  of  Heinrich,  duke  of  Saxony  As 
he  preferred  cunning  to  open  warfare,  he  sent  him  a  cordial 
mvitation  to  come  and  visit  him  in  Mainz,  on  a  certain  day 
adding  that  he  had  a  handsome  gold  chain  which  he  wished 
to  put  around  his  neck  with  his  own  hands. 

The  duke  of  Saxony,  suspecting  no  evil,  accepted  the 
invitation,  and  prepared  to  ride  into  Mainz  on  the  ap- 
pointed day,  while  the  bishop  sent  seven  marks  of  pure  gold 
to  the  best  goldsmith  in  town  with  orders  to  fashion  them 
mto  a  strong  and  handsome  necklace.  This  order  was  duly 
executed,  and  when  the  messenger  came  to  get  the  finished 
chain  the  goldsmith  noticed  with  surprise  that  his  hands 
were  trembling,  and  that  his  eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears. 

When  he  inquired  the  cause  of  these  strange  demonstra- 
tions,  he  learned  with  dismay  that  Hatto  was  planning  to 
strangle  his  beloved  master,  under  pretext  of  laying  the 
chain  around  his  neck.  Instead  of  showing  his  feelings,  how- 
ever, the  clever  goldsmith  said  that  he  did  not  care  what 
use  the  bishop  made  of  the  chain,  but  was  only  anxious  to 
secure  his  pay  for  the  work  he  had  done. 

Indignant  with  the  man's  apparent  callousness,  the  mes- 
senger  paid  for  the  work  and  departed.  Scarcely  had  he 
left  than  the  goldsmith  hastened  out  of  town,  and  meeting 


I 


2SB 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


\ 


h 


Heinrich,  warned  him  of  the  treacherous  reception  awaiting 
him.  * 

Heinrich  turned  to  the  bishop's  messenger,  who  rode  be- 
side him,  and  bade  him  go  back  to  his  master  and  tell  him  that 
he  had  no  wish  to  suffer  Adalbert's  fate,  but  preferred  to  do 
without  the  handsome  golden  necklace  which  the  bishop 
had  so  kindly  promised  to  give  him.  Then,  while  the 
bishop's  servant  returned  alone  to  Mainz,  Heinrich  again 
withdrew  into  Saxony,  taking  with  him  the  honest  gold- 
smith who  had  so  cleverly  managed  to  warn  him  and  had 
thus  saved  his  life. 


flOrsheim. 

OTe  Sbepbcrye  S>eatb. 

In  a  pretty  little  castle  which  stood  above  the  village  of 
Florsheim,  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  dwelt  a  most  charm- 
ing young  lady,  who,  in  spite  of  many  noble  suitors,  fell  in 
love  with  a  poor  young  shepherd.  He  was  wont  to  pipe  his 
lays,  gazing  up  admiringly  at  her,  while  he  watched  his 
sheep  on  the  green  slopes  which  led  from  the  castle  down  to 
the  river. 

One  day  when  the  young  shepherd  lay  under  a  tree  sound 
asleep,  the  lady  of  Florsheim,  stealing  softly  through  the 
bushes,  bent  down  to  gaze  upon  him,  and  in  a  sudden  out- 
burst of  love  bent  over  and  kissed  him.  Her  touch,  how- 
ever light,  immediately  awoke  the  young  shepherd,  who, 
seeing  her  blushing  face  near  him,  caught  her  in  his  arms 
and  repaid  her  kiss  by  a  fervent  embrace. 

After  lingering  beside  him  for  some  time  the  pretty  lady 
of  Florsheim  stole  away,  promising  to  visit  him  again  some 
other  day,  and  the  shepherd  resumed  his  happy  day  dreams 
and  waited  for  her  coming.  On  the  morrow,  when  he  was 
again   lying  under  the  selfsame  tree,  he  suddenly  heard  a 


FALKENSTEIN,  259 

rustle  in  the  bushes,  and  fancying  it  was  his  beloved  who 
might  perchance  again  favor  him  with  a  kiss,  he  pretended  to 
sleep.  But,  instead  of  the  expected  caress,  he  was  suddenly 
bitten  by  a  deadly  snake,  and  a  few  moments  later  was  cold 
in  death.  The  lady  of  Florsheim,  stealing  noiselessly 
through  the  bushes  toward  evening,  fancied  she  had  again 
caught  her  lover  napping,  but  her  kiss  called  forth  no  re- 
sponse, so  she  soon  discovered  he  was  dead. 

In  her  despair  she  flung  herself  over  an  overhanging 
rock  down  into  the  river,  and  on  the  morrow,  after  vainly 
searching  for  her,  her  parents  found  her  drowned  at  the 
foot  of  the  rock  upon  which  the  young  shepherd  lay  cold 
in  death.  ^ 


FALKENSTEIN. 
tTbe  (Bnomcs*  1Roa&* 

KuNo  of  Sayn,    one  of  the   noble  family  whose  ruined 
castle  still  rises  on  one  of  the  hills  along  the  Rhine,  once  fell 
in  love  with  the  daughter  of  the  surly  lord  of  Falkenstein 
and   having  won  her  consent,  formally   presented   himself 
before   her   father  to  ask   her   hand   in  marriage. 

He  proceeded  for  this  purpose  to  the  castle  of  Falken- 
stein, which  was  perched  on  the  heights  above  one  of  the 
tributaries   of  the    Main.     The    youth   made    his    proposal 
which  the  grim  old  lord  promised  to  consider,  providing  the 
suitor  would    subscribe  to  one  condition.     The    impetuous 
lover  immediately  vowed  to  do  so,  without  waiting  to  inquire 
what  the  condition  might  be.     Imagine  his  chagrin  and  dis- 
may, therefore,  when  the  Lord  of  Falkenstein  told  him  that 
he  could  wed  his   daughter,  only  if  he  built  a  convenient 
road  from  the  castle  to  the  valley,  over  the  jagged  rocks, 
and  rode  up  thither  on  his  war-steed  before  sunrise  on  the 
morrow. 

Sadly  Kuno  von  Sayn  scrambled  down  the  rocks  again, 


26o 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


I 


without  having  been  able  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  th^  fair 
Irmengarde,  his  beloved.  He  sat  down  upon  a  rock  in  the 
valley  and  berated  himself  for  his  stupidity,  for  many  work- 
men and  many  months  of  arduous  labor  would  scarcely 
accomplish  the  task  which  had  been  appointed  him.  Sud- 
denly, ho^yever,  he  was  aroused  from  his  abstraction  by  the 
sound  of  a  little  voice  calling  him  by  name.  He  looked  up 
and  beheld  the  king  of  the  gnomes,  who  said  there  was  no 
need  for  him  to  despair,  as  he  and  his  subjects  would  gladly 
aid  such  a  deserving  knight.  He  bade  Kuno  hasten  to  the 
inn  where  he  had  left  his  steed,  promising  that  the  road 
would  be  ready  before  sunrise  on  the  morrow.  Then  the 
king  of  the  gnomes  waved  his  hand  and  caused  a  mist  to 
rise  and  shroud  valley  and  hill  with  its  dense  vapor. 

Thousands  of  dwarf-like  creatures  now  crept  out  of  the 
ground  on  all  sides,  and  began  using  axes,  hammers,  and 
spades  with  great  good  will.  All  night  long  Kuno  von 
Sayn  heard  the  crashing  of  great  forest  trees,  the  breaking 
of  stone  and  occasionally  a  long  rumble  like  thunder.  At 
dawn  he  emerged  from  his  bedroom  and  was  greeted  by  the 
innkeeper,  who  told  him  that,  judging  by  the  noise  which 
had  kept  him  awake,  a  terrible  storm  must  have  raged  over 
the  valley.  Kuno  did  not  pause  to  listen  to  the  man's  tales, 
but  loudly  called  for  his  horse,  and  mounting,  rode  rapidly 
away  to  the  foot  of  the  eminence  upon  which  rose  the  castle 
of  Falkenstein.  True  to  his  promise,  the  king  of  the  gnomes 
had  built  a  broad  and  convenient  road,  and  Kuno  galloped 
boldly  up,  exchanging  radiant  smiles  with  the  kindly  dwarfs, 
who  peered  out  at  him  from  behind  every  rock  and  tree. 
As  he  thundered  over  the  arched  bridge  they  were  just  fin- 
ishing, he  gayly  waved  his  hand  to  Irmengarde,  who,  blush- 
ing and  happy,  stood  up  on  the  castle  ramparts.  Then  the 
dwarfs  unanimously  raised  a  glad  shout  of  triumph. 

The  knight  of  Falkenstein,  seeing  his  condition  had  duly 
been  complied  with,  could  no  longer  refuse  his  consent 
to  his  daughter's  speedy  marriage  with  Kuno  von  Sayn,  and 


FALKENSTEIN. 


261 


the  first  sunbeam,  falling  upon  the  castle,  illuminated  the 
golden  hair  and  blushing  cheeks  of  the  maiden,  who  was 
joyfully  clasped  close  to  her  lover's  heart. 

This  legend  has  been  a  suggestive  theme  for  several 
German  poets  and  has  also  given  rise  to  an  English  version, 
which  concludes  as  follows: 


*« 


it 


«« 


«• 


And  Kuno  on  his  coal  black  steed 
Came  riding  gallantly. 
There  was  the  finished  road  indeed, 
A  miracle  to  see  ! 

Up,  up,  and  up  he  galloped  gay. 
Till,  at  the  portal  grim, 
He  saw  the  Ritter  old  and  gray 
Come  out  to  welcome  him  ; 

And  by  her  white  and  slender  hand 
He  led  his  daughter  fair  : 
*  Take  her,*  he  cried,  '  you  who  command 
The  powers  of  earth  and  air  !  * 

And  Kuno  looked  in  her  sweet  eyes, 
And  rapturously  obeyed  ; 
And  so  he  won  his  matchless  prize, 
The  snow  and  rose  bloom  maid." 

—5/.  Nicholas  Magazine^ 


The  castle  of  Falkenstein  once  belonged  to  a  grim  old 
lord,  who  arbitrarily  decided  that  his  only  daughter  must 
enter  a  convent,  and  with  that  purpose  in  view  placed  her 
under  the  exclusive  care  of  some  nuns.  When  her  novitiate 
was  ended,  however,  the  priests  refused  to  allow  her  to  take 
the  veil  until  she  had,  as  was  customary,  seen  the  gay  world 
and  its  attractions,  and  made  her  choice  in  an  intelligent 
way. 

Thus  forced  to  bring  his  daughter  home  for  a  few  weeks, 
the  lord  of  Falkenstein  received  no  visitors,  and  never  wenf 


262 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


FRANKFORT, 


263 


'll 


\^ 


w 


out,  keeping  her  as  strictly  secluded  as  in  a  convent,  in  his 
fear  that  she  should  refuse  to  obey  his  wishes  and  take  the 
veil.  The  only  recreation  permitted  her  was  to  walk  alone 
in  a  little  garden,  where,  unbeknown  to  her  father,  she  met 
the  young  count  of  Hclfenstein.  He  fell  deeply  in  love  with 
her  at  first  sight,  and  lost  no  time  in  pressing  his  suit. 

As  soon  as  he  discovered  that  his  love  was  returned  he 
proposed  to  ask  her  father's  consent,  and  it  was  agreed 
between  them  that  he  should  come  on  the  next  day,  when 
her  father  would  surely  be  ready  to  give  an  answer,  as  the 
young  lady  proposed  enlightening  him  on  the  state  of  her 
wishes  in  the   interim. 

But,  when  the  count  of  Helfenstein  came  to  Falkenstein 
on  the  morrow,  father  and  daughter  had  both  gone,  and  the 
servants  reported  that  their  master  was  in  a  terrible  rage 
when  he  gave  the  orders  to  prepare  everything  for  his 
daughter's   immediate   return   to   the   convent. 

The  disconsolate  lover  now  set  out  for  the  convent  too, 
and  knowing  he  would  be  refused  admittance,  lingered  out- 
side the  walls  till  midnight.  Then,  seeing  only  one  light 
burning,  he  uttered  the  low,  familiar  whistle  which  had  been 
wont  to  warn  his  beloved  of  his  approach. 

A  moment  later  a  fair  form  appeared  at  the  convent  case- 
ment, and  rapidly  signing  to  him  to  keep  silence,  intoned  a 
church  hymn,  using  the  familiar  air  to  convey  this  informa- 
tion to  her  lover: 

**  The  convent  wall  is  broken  near  the  shore, 
Climb  quickly  over  there,  my  loving  knight ; 
In  the  convent  wall  is  an  iron  door, 
Break  through  its  bars  with  giant's  might.** 

The  \over,  listening  breathlessly  to  every  word,  signaled 
that  he  had  understood  as  soon  as  she  had  finished,  and 
carried  out  her  directions  so  faithfully,  that  in  a  few  minutes 
he  clasped  her  in  his  arms.  Together  now  they  made  their 
escape,  but  scarcely  had  they  reached  the  other  side  of  the 


wall  when  the  lady*s  flight  was  discovered.  The  convent 
alarm  bell  pealed  through  the  quiet  night,  and  the  sounds  of 
close  pursuit  were  heard.  The  count  of  Helfenstein,  clasp- 
ing his  beloved  closely,  ran  wildly  along  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine,  and  was  about  to  drop  down  exhausted  when  he 
saw  a  skiff  moored  to  a  tree.  To  place  his  treasure  in  the 
stern,  cleave  the  rope  with  one  blow  of  his  sword,  seize  the 
oars,  and  propel  the  skiff  out  into  the  middle  of  the  stream, 
was  the  work  of  but  a  moment.  Favored  by  the  darkness 
and  the  rapid  current  the  young  people  evaded  their 
pursuers,  and  safely  reached  the  castle  of  Helfenstein,  where 
they  were  married  and  lived  happy  ever  after : 


**  Rowed  her  o'er  the  rapid  Rhine 
To  his  castle  Helfenstein, 
Where,  in  wedlock's  holy  glow. 
Lived  and  loved  they  long  ago.** 


FRANKFORT. 

tTbe  Croddind  ot  tbe  #ord* 

Frankfort-on-the-Main,  the  birthplace  of  Goethe,  and 
the  town  where  the  coronation  of  many  of  the  German 
emperors  was  celebrated  with  much  pomp,  is  also  noted  for 
its  ancient  legends,  to  one  of  which  it  owes  its  name. 
Charlemagne,  having  penetrated  far  into  the  Teutonic 
forests  to  wage  war  against  the  Saxons,  was  once  defeated 
and  forced  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat  with  his  brave  Franks. 

The  country  was  unknown  to  him,  a  heavy  fog  rested  all 
over  the  land,  and  the  fugitive  army,  coming  to  the  banks 
of  the  Main,  saw  no  means  of  escape.  Knowing  that  his 
small  force  would  soon  be  cut  to  pieces  if  he  lingered  here, 
yet  not  daring  to  attempt  to  ford  the  stream  when  he  could 


264 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


\l 


scarcely  see  a  few  feet  ahead  of  him,  Charlemagne  in   de- 
spair had  recourse  to  prayer. 

A  second  later  the  heavy  fog  bank  parted,  and  the  emperor 
saw  a  doe  fording  the  river,  followed  by  her  young.  He 
called  to  his  men  to  keep  close  beside  him,  took  the  same 
road,  and  brought  his  army  safely  over.  The  fog  bank  closed 
behind  them  and  completely  concealed  them  from  the  pur- 
suing Saxons,  who  declared  that  if  the  Franks  had  attempted 
to  pass,  they  must  have  perished  in  the  waters  of  the  Main. 

In  commemoration  of  his  deliverance  from  the  hand  of 
the  enemy,  Charlemagne  called  the  place  where  he  had 
crossed  Frankfort  (the  ford  of  the  Franks),  which  name  is 
borne  by  the  city  erected  shortly  after  on  the  spot  where 
the  fugitive  army  passed  over  the  Main. 


The  beautiful  red  sand-stone  bridge  which  spans  the 
Main  at  Frankfort,  and  on  which  stands  a  fine  statue  of 
Charlemagne,  was  built  in  1342.  Previous  to  that  date 
many  architects  had  attempted  to  build  a  bridge  there,  but 
the  winter  ice  and  spring  freshets  invariably  carried  away 
their  pillars.  This  prevented  the  completion  of  the  work, 
and  all  would-be  builders  had  given  up  the  attempt  with  a 
muttered  *' Devil  take  the  bridge." 

Finally  an  architect,  more  worldly-wise  than  his  prede- 
cessors, fancied  that  the  devil  had  probably  taken  them  at 
their  word.  So  he  called  upon  his  Satanic  Majesty  and 
asked  his  permission  to  begin  the  bridge,  and  bespoke  his 
help  in  finishing  it.  Satan,  well  pleased  at  this  request, 
gave  full  permission  and  promised  his  aid,  upon  condition 
that  the  first  living  creature  which  crossed  it  on  the  day  it 
was  opened  to  the  public  would  be  delivered  up  to  his 
tender  mercies. 

Mentally  resolving  not  to  cross  the  bridge  first  on  the 


FRANKFORT. 


»<5f 


opening  day,  the  architect  subscribed  to  the  devil's  con- 
ditions. He  immediately  began  the  construction,  which 
progressed  favorably,  and  in  due  time  was  brought  to  a 
successful  conclusion. 

All  the  town  magistrates  then  assembled  to  open  the 
bridge,  while  the  people  of  Frankfort,  in  gala  attire,  formed 
a  long  procession  behind  them.  When  he  reached  the  head 
of  the  bridge  the  master  of  ceremonies  paused,  and  called 
the  architect,  who  was  walking  modestly  in  the  rear.  With 
a  graceful  gesture  he  then  bade  him  pass  first  and  open  the 
march,  as  was  his  due. 

Pale  and  stammering,  the  architect  refused  the  honor, 
urging  that  he  could  not  think  of  preceding  the  master  of 
ceremonies,  who,  curled,   perfumed,   and  as  pompous  as  a 
drum  major,  really  considered  the  honor  belonged  to  him. 
He  was  about  to  ride  forward,  therefore,  and  be  the  first 
upon  the  bridge,   when  an  old  market  woman,  who  had  a 
live  chicken  in  her  basket,  suddenly  held  up  her  hands  in 
admiration  at  his    fine  appearance.       The    basket   lid,    no 
longer  held  down,   opened  with  a  bang,    and  a   distracted 
rooster  flew  out  with  a  squawk  almost  directly  under  the 
feet  of  the  prancing  steed.      The  fowl,  as  chickens  will, 
instead  of  retreating  to  either  side  of  the  road  began  zig- 
zagging wildly  in  front  of  the  horse,  and  then  fluttered  upon 
the  bridge,    still   uttering  a   frightened  cackle.     Suddenly, 
however,   it    disappeared,   and    the    people    standing   near 
declared    they  saw  a   claw-like  hand  clutch  it,  heard  some 
angry  imprecations,   and  caught    the    fumes  of   an   almost 
intolerable  stench. 

When  the  architect  heard  this  report  he  frankly  con- 
fessed the  bargain  he  had  made  with  the  fiend,  and  the 
people  were  beside  themselves  with  joy  when  they  heard 
how  nicely  an  old  rooster  had  cheated  the  devil.  As  a 
memento  of  this  occurrence  they  placed  the  golden  efiigy  of 
a  rooster  upon  the  bridge,  and  they  declare  this  miraculous 
bird  crows  loudly  whenever  he  sees  a  Jew  cross  the  bridge. 


266 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


It  is  said,  however,  that  either  the  numerous  Jews  who 
live  at  Frankfort  avoid  the  bridge  from  fear  of  hearing  the 
denouncing  crow,  or  that  the  cock's  eyesight  must  have 
failed  him,  for  it  is  many  a  year  since  he  has  flapped  his 
wings  and  uttered  his  shrill  cry. 


(Tbe  Great  f  fte. 

On  the  fourteenth  of  January,  171 1,  the  whole  quarter  of 
the  Jews  in  P'rankfort  was  reduced  to  ashes.  This  memor- 
able conflagration  is  ascribed  to  the  magic  of  an  old  rabbi, 
who,  under  the  pretext  of  showing  his  disciples  the  power 
of  the  cabala,  banished  the  spirits  of  water  and  damp,  and 
conjured  up  the  spirits  of- fire  and  heat. 

As  often  happens,  however,  the  spirits  he  had  called  upon 
came  suddenly  and  with  a  vengeance,  setting  fire  to  his  house 
and  garments,  singeing  his  hair  and  beard.  This  frightened 
him  so  sorely  that  he  entirely  forgot  the  required  cabalistic 
formula  to  recall  the  spirits  of  water  and  damp,  and  restrain 
the  destructive  energy  of  the  heat  and  fire.  The  flames, 
spreading  rapidly  from  house  to  house,  soon  invaded  all  the 
Jewish  quarter.  They  would  surely  have  consumed  the 
Christian  dwellings  also,  had  it  not  been  for  the  presence  of 
mind  of  a  priest.  He  suspected  that  there  was  magic  at 
work,  and  called  upon  the  fire  to  pause  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  praying  that  water  and 
damp  might  prevail  over  the  fiendish  flames.  At  his  appeal 
the  roaring  flames  paused  in  their  advance,  and  not  a  single 
Christian  dwelling  was  injured,  while  the  Jews  lost  houses 
and  all  in  the  flames,  and  nothing  but  ashes  remained  in 
the  part  of  the  town  which  had  been  set  aside  for  their  use. 


FRANKFORT 


96J 


Clic  SExccuticncv  dmcbfcd. 

A  GRAND  masked  ball  was  once  given  in  the  town  hall  of 
Frankfort,  in  honor  of  the  king  and  queen,  who,  also  dis- 
guised, mingled  with  their  guests.  Her  Majesty  even 
accepted  partners  in  the  dance,  and  twice  trod  a  measure 
with  a  tall,  distinguished-looking  man,  whose  reserved  but 
courtly  manners  greatly  pleased  her. 

As  none  of  her  eager  questions  had  elicited  any  answer 
which  could  enable  her  to  discover  who  he  might  be,  she 
resolved  to  watch  him  when  he  unmasked,  and  even  gave 
the  signal  for  it  by  removing  her  own  disguise  a  whole  hour 
earlier  than  usual.  All  the  guests  immediately  imitated 
her  with  the  exception  of  the  stranger.  Only  when  com- 
pelled to  do  so  by  the  queen's  explicit  command,  he  tore 
the  mask  away  from  his  face,  and  falling  down  upon  his 
knees  before  her  craved  her  pardon  for  having  presumed  to 
ask  her  to  dance. 

The  queen,  gazing  down  upon  a  beautiful  and  melancholy, 
but  unknown,  face,  was  about  to  ask  who  he  was,  when  the 
people  suddenly  shrank  back  with  a  shudder,  exclaiming: 
*^The  executioner  of  Bergen  !  " 

**Yes,"  replied  the  stranger  sorrowfully,  **I  am  the 
executioner  of  Bergen,  and  because  I  do  the  king's  will  I 
am  shunned  and  scorned  by  all.  All  flee  from  me  and 
loath  me  as  if  I  were  not  of  their  own  kind.  The  longing 
to  mingle  with  my  fellow  creatures  once  more  as  an  equal 
drove  me  hither." 

The  king,  hearing  these  words,  was  so  indignant  that  he 
called  for  his  guards,  and  angrily  bade  them  lead  the  knave 
away,  and  behead  him  with  his  own  axe  in  punishment  for 
his  audacity. 

Before  this  order  could  be  executed,  however,  the  man 
exclaimed  that  even  were  he  slain  the  queen  would  none  the 
less  have  danced  with  the  vilest  of  the  commoners.     Any- 


268 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


one  could  taunt  her  with  that  fact,  and  even  blood  would 
never  efface  the  stain.  With  a  groan  the  king  acknowledged 
that  this  was  true.  Then  the  executioner  declared  himself 
ready  to  defend  her  against  any  man,  and  vowed  he  would 
even  fight  the  greatest  nobleman  were  he  but  a  knight.  So 
the  king  concluded  to  ennoble  him,  and  seizing  his  sword 
gave  him  the  wonted  accolate  and  bade  him  rise,  calling  him 
the  Knave  of  Bergen.  The  queen  then  bade  her  champion 
hold  himself  ready  to  defend  her  honor  at  any  time,  and  do 
battle  for  her,  and  the  executioner  was  thus  respited  from 
death  and  admitted  among  the  nobility  of  the  land. 


TOe  tKIIeatber  Vane. 

0:i_  f  the  weather  vanes  in  Frankfort  bears  a  number 
nine,  neatly  pricked  on  its  surface  by  nine  holes.  The 
legend  relates  that  a  poacher,  having  been  caught  and 
imprisoned  in  the  tower  during  nine  weary  days  and  nights, 
complained  sorely  of  the  creaking  of  this  vane,  which,  he 
declared,  had  prevented  him  from  finding  a  moment's 
oblivion  in  sleep. 

**Were  I  only  free,"  said  he,  "  I  would  show  the  good 
people  of  Frankfort  how  accurately  I  can  aim,  by  shooting 
as  many  holes  in  that  accursed  old  weather  vane  as  I  have 
spent  nights  in  this  tower,  and  what  is  more,  those  nine 
holes  would  form  the  number  nine." 

The  jailor  reported  this  speech  to  the  city  councilors, 
who,  anxious  to  see  such  a  proof  of  skill,  declared  the 
poacher  should  be  allowed  to  try  and  fulfill  his  vain  boast. 
They  added  that  if  he  succeeded  in  touching  the  vane  nine 
times,  and  formed  a  number  nine  with  the  holes,  they  would 
set  him  free. 

The  poacher,  brought  before  them,  loaded  his  gun,  aimed 
at  the  mobile  vane,   and  shooting,    punched   a  hole  in  it, 


HANAU. 


269 


Nine  times  he  shot,  and  each  hole,  round  and  near  its 
fellow,  helped  to  form  the  well-shaped  number  nine,  which 
won  him  his  freedom.  Leaving  the  city,  the  poacher  then 
swore  he  would  never  again  return  to  town,  where  such 
creaking  engines  as  weather  vanes  prevented  a  man  from 
sleeping.  Since  that  day,  however,  the  weather  vane  has 
borne  the  number  nine,  and  the  people  often  point  it  out  as 
a  proof  of  his  good  marksmanship. 


HANAU. 

TCbe  Beatb  oi  tbe  Innocent 

An  executioner's  cart  was  slowly  wending  its  way  through 
the  crowded  streets  of  Hanau.  As  it  rumbled  over  the 
stones  it  drew  many  groans  from  the  woman  who  sat  within, 
bound  hand  and  foot,  and  exposed  to  the  jeers  and  insults 
of  the  assembled  populace.  She  had  been  tried  and  duly 
sentenced  to  death  for  some  heinous  crime,  although  she 
had  persistently  asserted  her  innocence. 

She  gazed  at  her  tormentors,  who  were  hurrying  her 
ruthlessly  on  to  the  gallows,  raised  her  bound  hands  to 
heaven,  and  once  more  solemnly  declared  that  she  had  com- 
mitted no  sin.  **  Heaven  itself  and  the  angels  will  have 
compassion  upon  me,"  she  cried.  *<  See,  they  shed  tears  for 
me. 

As  she  spoke,  in  spite  of  the  cloudless  blue  sky  above 
great  drops  of  rain  suddenly  began  to  fall.  But,  notwith- 
standing this  evident  miracle,  the  people  hurried  the  poor 
woman  on  and  put  her  to  death. 

A  few  weeks  later  the  real  criminal  was  discovered,  judged, 
and  executed,  and  the  mobile  populace  execrated  him  loudly, 
bewailing  the  untimely  fate  of  the  poor  woman  who,  in 
spite  of  the  miracle  worked  in  her  behalf,  had  been  the  inno- 
cent victim  of  their  cruelty  and  injustice. 


*70  LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


DARMSTADT. 

Walther  von  Birbach,  a  brave  knight-errant,  had  vowed 
to  serve  the  Virgin  Mary  only.  In  her  honor  he  went  about 
from  place  to  place,  challenging  every  knight,  and  forcing 
them  all  to  recognize  the  supremacy  of  the  Lady  he  served 
and  to  bend  the  knee  at  her  name. 

When  he  heard  that  a  great  tournament  was  about  to  take 
place  at  Darmstadt,  he  wended  his  way  thither.  On  the  road 
he  encountered  a  beautiful  woman,  in  whom  he  immediately 
recognized  his  holy  patroness.  She  bade  him  dismount 
and  give  her  his  weapons  and  steed,  which  she  promptly 
appropriated.  A  moment  later,  arrayed  in  his  armor,  the 
Virgin  galloped  away,  and  Walther  of  Birbach,  bewildered 
by  this  sudden  apparition,  sat  down  by  the  roadside  to 
collect    his   thoughts. 

He  had  not  entirely  succeeded  in  doing  so,  however,  ere 
the  Virgin  returned,  gave  him  back  his  horse  and  armor, 
and  bade  him  ride  on.  When  he  arrived  in  Darmstadt  he 
learned  that  the  tournament  was  over,  and  that  all  the 
honors  of  the  day  had  been  won  by  the  Knight  of  Birbach. 
A  few  moments  later  he  was  surrounded  by  the  enthusi- 
astic multitude,  who,  recognizing  the  coat  of  arms  on  his 
shield,  received  him  with  loud  applause. 

A  number  of  knights  forced  their  way  through  the  crowd 
and  humbly  proffered  ransom,  declaring  he  had  conquered 
them  in  fair  fight,  and  that  they  were  ready  to  do  him 
homage.  Realizing  then  that  his  fair  patroness  had  assumed 
his  armor  only  to  tilt  in  his  behalf,  and  win  a  signal  victory 
for  him,  Walther  of  Birbach  humbly  exclaimed: 

''  Do  homage  to  Mary,  the  blessed  Virgin,  for  it  is  owing 
to  her  that  you  have  been  disarmed.  Lay  your  ransom 
before   her  shrine,   serve    her  as  long  as  you  live,  and    be 


AUERBACH, 


I7t 


ready  at   all   times  to   recognize  her  as  tne-  most   blessed 
among  women." 

The  knights  obeyed  these  injunctions,  and  it  is  said  that 
the  Virgin  never  had  more  faithful  servants  than  the  knights 
<ihe  once  disarmed  in  the  Darmstadt  tournament. 


AUERBACH. 

The  ruined  castle  of  Auerbach,  from  whence  a  beautiful 
view  can  be  obtained,  is  said  to  be  haunted  by  the  spirit  of 
a  lovely  maiden,  upon  whom  a  magician  once  laid  a  terrible 
spell.  By  mystic  incantations  he  made  her  invisible  to  all, 
and  declared  that  she  would  haunt  the  ruins  until  the  castle 
was  visited  by  a  youth,  rocked  in  infancy  in  a  cradle  made 
of  the  wood  of  a  cherry  tree  beneath  whose  shade  she  had 
been  wont  to  linger. 

The  magician  had  found  her  beneath  this  tree,  and  had 
spirited  her  away,  declaring  she  would  remain  invisible  to 
all  until  her  deliverer  came.  He  could  release  her  from  the 
spell  only  by  pressing  a  kiss  upon  her  lips,  and  would  then 
become  possessor  of  a  large  fortune  and  of  a  bride  whom 
all  his  companions  would  envy  him. 

The  deliverer  has  not  yet  come,  however,  and  the  maid- 
en's restless  spirit  is  still  said  to  await  him  in  the  romantic 
ruins  of  Auerbach  castle. 


WORMS. 

QDe  twatd  of  Gold. 

The  city  of  Worms,  so  frequently  mentioned  in  the 
legendary  poems  of  the  North,  is  the  scene  of  Siegfried's 
wooing  of  Kriemhild,  who  here  cultivated  her  beautiful 
roses,    mourned    for   her    husband,  and    lost    the   precious 


J  *T  2 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


Nibelungen  hoard,  which  her  uncle  Hagen  sank  in  the  waters 
of  the  Rhine.  * 

This  treasure  has  often  and  vainly  been  sought»  A  poet 
once  came  to  the  Rhine,  and  hiring  a  skiff,  plied  around  for 
many  a  day,  reading  over  the  poem  to  discover  a  clew  to 
the  exact  spot  where  the  hoard  was  sunk,  and  refreshing 
himself  from  time  to  time  with  draughts  of  delicious  Rhine 
wine. 

After  many  a  day  he  relinquished  his  search,  for  he  now 
felt  convinced  that  the  gold  had  melted  in  the  Rhine,  that 
the  wines  had  absorbed  its  golden  color,  and  that  the  only 
priceless  treasure  now  remaining  was  the  ancient  epic  poem, 
which  has  inspired  many  a  modern  bard. 

The  cathedral  of  Worms,  one  of  the  oldest  along  the 
mighty  river,  is  richly  decorated  on  the  southern  side  by 
fourteenth  century  statues,  representing  the  various  charac- 
ters of  the  Nibelungenlied,  which  is  daily  more  admired  by 
lovers  of  ancient  literature. 

As  Worms  was  at  times  the  residence  of  the  emperor, 
many  great  tournaments  have  been  held  within  its  walls,  and 
it  was  here  that  the  Diet  assembled  before  which  Luther  was 
forced  to  appear.  In  commemoration  of  the  visit  of  the 
great  reformer  a  Luther  monument  has  recently  been 
erected  on  the  square  bearing  his  name,  where  he  stands 
aloft,  Bible  in  hand,  while  Huss,  Savonarc'la,  Wyclif  and 
Waldus,  Philip  of  Hesse,  Frederick  of  Saxony,  Meianch- 
thon  and  Reuchlin,  his  predecessors  and  supporters,  are 
grouped  at  his  feet. 


tTbe  tlnftnown  Icniflbt* 

Once  when  Maximilian  was  holding  a  great  tournament 
at  Worms,  a  gigantic  French  knight  rode  through  the  town 
challenging  any  man  to  come  forth  and  fight  him,  and  pro- 
posing that  the  conquered  should  serve  the  conqueror  all  the 
rest  of  his  life. 


O 

n 

> 

H 
X 

D 

> 


WORMS. 


273 


Owing  to  the  stranger's  gigantic  stature,  and  especially  to 
this  singular  condition,  none  of  the  knights  assembled  at 
Worms  dared  accept  his  challenge.  It  was  only  on  the 
tenth  day  that  an  unknown  knight,  with  blank  shield  and 
lowered  vizor,  offered  to  meet  him  in  the  lists. 

The  people,  assembled  to  view  the  jousting,  were  very 
glad  indeed  to  think  that  a  champion  had  at  last  appeared 
to  pick  up  the  Frenchman's  gage,  but  owing  to  his  much 
slighter  build  feared  lest  he  should  not  prove  very  success- 
ful in  fight.  At  the  very  first  onslaught  both  combatants 
were  dismounted,  but  manfully  continued  the  battle  on  foot, 
and,  thanks  to  his  dexterity,  the  unknown  finally  disarmed 
the  boastful  Frenchman. 

The  assembled  people  cheered  their  champion  uproar- 
iously, and  insisted  upon  his  revealing  his  name  and  station, 
that  they  might  remember  him  forever.  Slowly  the  stranger 
then  removed  his  plumed  helmet,  and  revealed  to  all  the 
well-known  and  beloved  features  of  the  Emperor  Maxi- 
milian, who  declared  he  had  been  forced  to  defend  the 
national  honor,  and  that  he  claimed  the  Frenchman's  loyal 
service  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 


XTbe  Greatest  ismealtb. 

The  Emperor  Maximilian  once  sat  over  his  wine  at 
Worms  on  the  Rhine,  gayly  challenging  the  nobles,  his 
guests,  to  reveal  the  source  of  their  wealth,  promising  a 
prize  to  the  one  who  proved  that  he  had  the  most  inex- 
haustible supply  on  hand. 

The  elector  of  the  Rhine,  speaking  first,  declared  he 
prided  himself  most  upon  his  sunny  vineyards,  which,  year 
after  year,  produced  many  a  barrel  of  priceless  wine. 

The  Prince  of  Saxony  declared  the  ores  from  his  mines 
were  his  greatest  treasures,  and  described  how  the  miners 


«74 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


daily  brought  them  out  of  the  bowel  of  the  earth,  where 
they  lay  in  immeasurable  stores.  • 

Then  the  ruler  of  Bavaria  proudly  extolled  the  beauty  of 
his  palaces  and  art  collections,  which  contained  the  choicest 
gems  of  ancient  painting  and  sculpture. 

One  after  another  vaunted  his  wealth,  and  when  all  but 
the  prince  of  Wiirtemberg  had  spoken,  the  emperor  suddenly 
turned  to  him  and  inquired  of  what  he  was  most  proud. 

**  Of  my  people's  affection,  most  gracious  majesty,  for 
well  I  know  they  would  give  me  their  houses,  children,  and 
even  their  own  lives,  should  I  require  such  a  sacrifice  at 
their  hands." 

Touched  by  this  reply,  the  emperor  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  exclaimed:  **Eberhart,  the  prize  is  yours,  for  there  is 
certainly  nothing  more  precious  to  a  ruler  than  the  genuine 
love  and  devotion  of  his  subjects." 


RODENSTEIN. 

^be  l^agtnd  f>odt 

The  ruined  castle  of  Rodenstein,  which  is  one  of  the 
reputed  haunts  of  the  traditional  Wild  Huntsman,  is  sur- 
rounded by  wild  forests,  and  stands  in  the  midst  of  grim 
mountains.  This  castle  was  once  inhabited  by  a  knight  of 
Rodenstein  who  declared  himself  the  champion  of  the  Ger- 
man fatherland,  swore  to  fight  for  it  against  any  foe,  and 
vowed  to  love  it  forever. 

To  serve  his  country  more  entirely,  this  knight  refused 
to  marry,  so  no  one  mourned  him  greatly  when  he  vanished 
from  the  castle  one  day  and  did  not  reappear.  The  peas- 
antry, however,  aver  that  he  did  not  die  in  war,  as  was  com- 
monly reported,  but  withdrew  into  the  vaults  of  his  castle, 
whence  he  issues  when  any  special  danger  threatens  his 
beloved  fatherland.     In  corroboration  of  this  belief,   they 


o 

p 

r» 

^ 

O 

P 

?o 

s^ 

n 

a- 

• 

OGGERSHEIM, 


a75 


declare  that  whenever  a  war  has  broken  out,  the  tramp  of 
mailed  steeds  is  heard  in  the  ruins,  and  that  at  nightfall  a 
shadowy  army,  led  by  the  lord  of  Rodenstein,  sweeps  across 
the  sky  in  the  direction  where  the  danger  is  greatest.  Just 
before  peace  is  proclaimed  the  shadowy  host  returns  to 
Rodenstein,  and  re-enters  the  castle  with  a  glad  song  of 
triumph,  to  linger  there  unheard  and  unseen  until  its  ser- 
vices are  again  required  to  free  the  beloved  fatherland  from 
a  hated  yoke. 

Some  German  writers  further  declare  that  Frederick 
Barbarossa  is  slumbering  in  the  castle  vaults.  He  awakens 
from  time  to  time  to  hold  grand  underground  receptions 
at  which  the  gnomes  and  dead  knights  appear.  Here  he 
has  amassed  great  treasures  for  future  use,  for  like  Arthur 
the  people  expect  he  will  return  to  rule  over  his  kingdom 
once  more  and  raise  it  to  higher  glory.* 


OGGERSHEIM. 
tPbe  De0erte^  citi\ 

The  little  town  of  Oggersheim,  besieged  by  the  Spaniards 
during  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  held  out  bravely  as  long  as 
provisions  lasted.  But  when  the  inhabitants  saw  they  must 
either  surrender  to  the  enemy,  whom  they  had  incensed 
by  their  resistance,  or  perish  of  hunger,  they  were  sorelv 
dismayed. 

One  of  the  oldest  councilors  offered  to  save  them,  and 
revealed  the  existence  of  a  secret  passage  which  would 
enable  them  to  escape  in  the  enemy's  rear.  He  now  pro- 
posed to  lead  them  all  out  during  the  night  and  to  leave  the 
enemy  the  doubtful  glory  of  taking  a  deserted  city  This 
plan  was  hailed  with  enthusiasm,  and  all  the  people  left  the 
town  by  the  secret  passage,  one  man  only  remaining  to  care 
for  his  wife  and  child,  the  latter  being  but  a  few  hours  old. 
*  See  "  Legends  of  the  Middle  Ages,"  in  press. 


276 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


Hie  Spaniards  hearing  no  noise  on  the  morrow,  and  seeing 
no  sentinels  on  the  ramparts,  fancied  the  inhabitants'  were 
planning  a  sortie,  but  after  waiting  three  whole  days  for  an 
attack  they  were  surprised  to  see  a  man  appear  upon  the 
ramparts  with  a  flag  of  truce.  He  promised  to  open  the 
gates,  providing  the  inhabitants  were  allowed  to  escape  with 
their  lives.  The  condition  was  accepted,  the  gates  opened, 
and  the  Spanish  army,  riding  in,  was  surprised  to  find 
streets  and   houses  deserted. 

**  Where  are  the  inhabitants,"  demanded  the  general  of 
the  man  who  had  opened  the  gate. 

**Here,"  he  simply  replied,  pointing  to  his  wife  and  babe, 
and  then  he  recounted  how  the  people  of  Oggersheim 
had  escaped,  and  how  he  had  remained  alone  with  his  wife, 
who  was  only  now  fit  to  travel.  The  Spanish  general  was 
so  surprised  at  the  unexpected  termination  of  the  siege 
that  he  forbade  his  men  to  pillage  or  destroy  the  city,  and 
when  the  inhabitants  returned  shortly  after,  they  found  all 
their  possessions  quite  unharmed  and  their  houses  undis- 
turbed. 


HEIDELBERG. 

1teaen^0  ct  tbc  Caetlc* 

The  castle  of  Heidelberg  was  founded  by  Count  Otto  of 
Wittelsbach,  who  moved  thither  from  his  ancestral  seat  of 
Stahleck  near  Bacharach  on  the  Rhine.  The  castle,  perched 
up  on  the  wooded  heights  near  the  junction  of  the  Neckar 
and  Rhine,  soon  became  the  central  point  of  the  lands  of 
the  elector  of  the  Rhine,  and  it  was  only  in  1802  that  it  was 
incorporated  into  the  State  of  Baden. 

From  the  river,  through  the  picturesque  little  town  of  the 
same  name,  the  road  winds  upward  to  the  great  castle,  whose 
beautiful  site  and  fabled  ruins  are  the  admiration  of  all 
irav tiers.     They  are  attracted  thither  also  by  the  well-known 


HEIDELBERG, 


277 


I 


4 


University,  which,  founded  in  1386,  has  since  been  frequented 
by  students  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  This  university 
was  the  bulwark  of  Protestantism  during  the  wars  of  religion, 
and  in  its  library  are  preserved  many  curious  and  interesting 
manuscripts  in  Luther's  own  handwriting.  The  castle  itself 
has  been  so  often  besieged,  that,  in  spite  of  much  repairing, 
many  parts  of  the  building  are  in  ruins.  Still  the  whole 
construction  is  one  of  remarkable  beauty  and  of  peculiar 
interest,  as  its  various  component  parts  are  of  different 
styles  of  architecture,  and  were  added  according  to  the 
whim  or  taste  of  the  princes  by  whose  order  they  were 
erected. 

The  castle  suffered  particularly  during  the  wars  of  Louis 
XIV.,  as  did  most  of  the  feudal  strongholds  along  the  Rhine, 
and  it  was  set  on  fire  by  order  of  the  French  general  when 
he  evacuated  Heidelberg  in  1689.  Rebuilt  in  1742,  the 
castle  was  again  burned,  this  fire  being  caused  by  a  thunder- 
bolt. Since  then  many  parts  have  remained  in  ruins,  which, 
half  covered  with  ivy,  are  picturesque  in  the  extreme. 

The  beautiful  gate  of  the  castle  was  erected  by  the  elector 
Frederick  V„  in  honor  of  his  wife  Elizabeth,  daughter  of 
James  I-  of  England,  and  in  another  part  of  the  edifice 
can  be  seen  two  columns  which  once  formed  part  of  Charle- 
magne's famous  palace  at  Ingelheim. 

Frederick,  surnamed  the  Victorious,  one  of  the  owners 
of  this  mighty  pile,  was  once  attacked  by  the  allied  knights 
and  bishops  of  the  Rhine.  Undaunted  by  the  superior 
number  of  his  foes,  he  made  a  bold  sally  with  his  men 
They  were  all  armed  with  sharp  daggers  instead  of  the  usual 
weapons,  and  first  attacked  the  horses  instead  of  the  riders. 
Thus  brought  to  the  ground,  the  knights,  unable  to  move  in 
their  ponderous  armor,  were  soon  made  prisoners  and 
marched  into  the  castle,  where  Frederick  invited  them  all 
to  partake  of  a  sumptuous  banquet. 

As  he  sat  at  the  richly  spread  board  with  his  enemies, 
Frederick  served  them   bountifully.     There  was  meat  and 


218 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


wine  In  aoundance,  but  the  guests  gazed  at  each  other  in 
surprise,  for  there  was  no  bread.  This  strange  omission 
on  the  bill  of  fare  was  not  an  oversight,  however,  for  when 
one  of  the  guests  ventured  to  ask  for  a  piece  of  bread,  the 
elector,  turning  to  the  steward,  bade  him  bring  some.  The 
man,  who  had  received  private  instructions,  respectfully 
informed  his  master  that  he  was  very  sorry  but  that  there 
was  none. 

**  Go  and  bake  some  !  "  commanded  Frederick. 
**  Master,  I  can't.     We  have  no  flour." 
**  Have  some  ground." 
''  Master,  I  can't.     We  have  no  grain." 
**Have  some  thrashed." 

**  Master,  I  can't.     The  harvests  have  all  been  burned." 
''Then,  go  and  sow  grain  that  we  may  soon  have  bread 
in  plenty." 

''  Master,  I  can't,  for  the  enemy  have  also  burned  down 
all  the  peasants'  barns  and  dwellings  with  the  grain  set  aside 
for  seed  time." 

Frederick  then  dryly  remarked  as  he  turned  to  his  guests  : 
'*  Gentlemen,  you'll  have  to  eat  your  meat  without  bread. 
Moreover,  you  must  give  me  the  necessary  funds  to  rebuild 
the  houses  and  barns  you  have  burned  down,  and  to  buy 
the  seed  for  sowing.  Henceforth,  I  advise  you  to  remember 
that  it  is  not  right  to  make  war  against  the  poor  and  de- 
fenseless, and  to  rob  the  peasant  of  his  tools  and  seed,  his 
only  means  of  subsistence.  If  you  do  so,  you  will  invari- 
ably find,  as  to-day,  that  you  too  must  suffer  some  discom- 
fort in  return  for  all  the  harm  you  have  done." 

This  selfsame  count  of  Heidelberg  once  made  a  rash 
vow  that  he  would  never  marry  a  noblewoman,  yet  soon 
after  he  fell  deeply  in  love  with  Princess  Elizabeth.  She 
returned  his  affection,  and  would  gladly  have  become  his 
wife,  had  he  not  felt  that  he  could  not  ask  for  her  hand  in 
marriage  owing  to  his  foolish  oath.  Frederick  felt  so 
miserable  to  think  he  had  thus  forfeited  his  own  happiness, 


ELIZABETH    GATE. 
Heidelberg  Castle. 


i 


HEIDELBERG. 


279 


and  that  of  his  beloved,  that  he  joined  the  army,  hoping 
soon  to  find  an  honorable  death. 

Elizabeth,  discovering  shortly  after  that  nothing  but  her 
rank  and  his  unfortunate  vow  prevented  their  being  happy, 
left  her  princely  home  and  title,  and  under  the  common 
name  of  Clara,  and  in  the  garb  of  a  strolling  singer,  cour- 
ageously followed  him.  They  met  face  to  face  one  beauti- 
ful evening  when  Frederick  was  wandering  disconsolately 
about,  and  the  princess  told  her  lover,  in  answer  to  his  eager 
inquiries,  how  she  had  renounced  name  and  rank  for  his 
sake. 

The  nominal  barrier  thus  broken  down  between  them,  the 
count  was  not  slow  in  wooing  the  beautiful  bride  who  had 
forsaken  home  and  station  for  him,  and  soon  conducted  her 
to  the  castle  of  Heidelberg,  where  they  lived  together  for 
many  years  the  happiest  couple  along  all  the  Rhine. 


We  Dwarf  an&  tbe  tTuru 

The  dwarf  Perkeo,  who  was  once  court-fool  of  the  count 
of  Heidelberg,  was,  although  so  tiny  of  stature,  a  veritable 
giant  as  far  as  drinking  was  concerned.  All  the  castle  and 
his  master's  wealth  seemed  as  nothing  to  him  compared  with 
the  mighty  Heidelberg  tun,  which  he  admired  beyond 
measure.  He  was  so  in  love  with  this  wine-barrel  that  he 
finally  refused  to  leave  the  vault  where  it  was  kept,  and 
spent  all  his  time  beside  it,  drawing  beaker  after  beaker  of 
wine,  and  gazing  upon  it  with  anxious  eyes. 

During  fifteen  years  he  sat  beside  the  tun,  turning  the 
faucet,  emptying  his  cup,  and  jealously  guarding  the  wine 
which  he  alone  was  entitled  to  drink.  To  his  surprise 
and  dismay,  however,  he  finally  discovered  that  there  was 
not  a  drop  of  wine  left  within  its  mighty,  bulging  sides. 
When  he  realized  that  he,  the  dwarf  Perkeo,   had  drained 


28o 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


such  an  immense  caskful  of  wine,  he  proudly  compared  him- 
self to  David,  and  declared  that  he  too  had  conquered  a 
Goliath. 

Then^  feeling  that  life  was  no  longer  worth  living  now 
that  the  tun  was  empty,  he  lay  down  beside  it  and  quietly 
passed  away,  requesting  that  he  might  be  buried  directly 
under  the  faucet  he  had  so  diligently  turned,  and  that  a 
statue  representing  him  might  be  placed  where  he  was  wont 

to  S't. 

These  recommendations  were  duly  observed,  and  the 
traveler  visiting  the  Heidelberg  tun,  which  has  stood 
empty  for  many  a  year,  will  see  Perkeo's  statue  very  near 
it,  on  the  spot  which  he  occupied  during  his  fifteen  years 
carousal. 


KAISERSLAUTERN. 
J3arbaro00a'6  Sleep» 

On  the  spot  where  the  prison  now  stands,  at  Kaiserslau- 
tern,  the  emperor  Frederick  Barbarossa  once  erected  a 
palace,  which  was  destroyed  during  the  war  of  the  Spanish 
succession.  While  history  reports  that  this  popular  ruler 
perished  in  the  waves  of  a  swollen  torrent  on  his  way  to 
Palestine,  tradition  declares  that  the  emperor  is  not  dead, 
but  fast  asleep  in  the  vaults  of  the  old  palace  at  Kaisers- 
lautcrn,  patiently  awaiting  the  time  when  his  country  will 
have  need  of  him. 

According  to  the  other  versions  of  this  same  tradition, 
Barbarossa  is  sleeping  under  the  Kyffhauser  mountain,  or 
in  the  castle  of  Rodenstein;  all,  however,  agree  in  declaring 
lliat  he  sits  motionless  in  front  of  a  marble  table,  through 
tvhich  his  fiery  red  beard  has  grown  nearly  to  the  floor,  or 
around  which  it  has  coiled  itself  nearly  three  times. 

The  emperor's  enchanted  slumbers  are  broken  only  every 
hundred  years,  when  he  bids  the  page  beside  him  go  up  on 


i 


FREDERICK   I.     Barbarossa. 


Hadcr. 


KAISERS  LA  UTERN. 


281 


the  mountain  and  see  whether  the  ravens  are  still  circling 
overhead.  , .  ^ 

**  O  dwarf,  go  up  this  hour 
And  see  if  still  the  ravens 
Are  flying  round  the  tower. 
And  if  the  ancient  ravens 
Still  wheel  above  me  here, 
Then  must  I  sleep  enchanted 
For  many  a  hundred  year." 

—Ruckert.     Translated  by  Tayhr, 

The  page  obeys,  and  returning,  reports  that  the  ravens 
are  still  flying,  and  his  master,  sighing  because  the 
auspicious  time  has  not  yet  come,  sinks  back  into  a  slumber 
vlHch  lasts  another  century.  When  the  fiery  beard  has 
completed  its  third  circle  round  the  marble  table,  however, 
the  ravens  will  have  ceased  to  flutter  round  the  rums,  the 
battle  trumpet  will  sound,  and  the  emperor  will  rise  from 
his  enchanted  sleep,  and  hang  his  shield  on  a  withered  pear 
tree  which  will  blossom  at  his  touch,  while  the  Germans 
rally  once  more  around  him  to  free  their  country  from 
oppression. 

•♦In  some  dark  day  when  Germany 
Hath  need  of  warriors  such  as  he, 
A  voice  to  tell  of  her  distress 
Shall  pierce  the  mountain's  deep  recess — 
Shall  ring  through  the  dim  vaults,  and  scare 
The  spectral  ravens  round  his  chair, 
And  from  his  trance  the  sleeper  wake. 
The  solid  mountain  shall  dispart, 
The  granite  slab  in  splinters  start 
(Responsive  to  those  accents  weird) 

And  loose  the  Kaiser's  shaggy  beard. 

Through  all  the  startled  air  shall  rise 

The  old  Teutonic  battle  cries  ; 

The  horns  of  war,  that  once  could  stir 

The  wild  blood  of  the  Berserker, 

Shall  fling  their  blare  abroad,  and  then 

The  champion  of  his  own  Almain, 

Shall  Barbarossa  come  again  ! " 

—Appletons  Magazine,  November  4,  187I. 


282 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


The  legends  of  Kaiserslautern  further  relate  that  the 
emperor's  servants  are  constantly  heaping  up  treasures  and 
weapons  in  the  vaults  of  the  castle,  where  these  vast  stores 
for  future  use  have  been  seen  by  peasants  fortunate  enough 
to  pluck  the  mystic  herb,  which  alone  acts  as  "Open 
Sesame/' 

But  the  man  who  has  once  visited  the  spot  is  never 
allowed  to  enter  it  again,  and  vainly  seeks  an  entrance  to 
those  underground  regions,  where  he  would  fain  gaze  again 
upon  the  majestic  sleeping  figure  in  martial  array  with  its 
long  red  gold  beard. 


SPEYEIL 

Qbe  Battle  ot  me4»0fe» 

In  1813,  when  Napoleon  was  concentrating  all  his  forces 
at  Leipsic  to  overwhelm  the  allied  armies,  the  town  of 
Spires  or  Speyer  was  almost  deserted  for  none  but  women, 
children,  and  old  men  were  left.  The  ferryman,  weary  of 
his  labors,  for  he  had  conveyed  many  passengers  across  dur- 
ing the  past  few  days,  was  nodding  over  his  oars,  when  he 
was  suddenly  roused  by  a  loud  call  from  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  where  the  city  lay. 

In  the  dim  starlight  he  quickly  rowed  across,  and  as  he 
touched  the  landing,  a  tall  shadowy  form,  closely  enveloped 
in  a  military  cloak,  silently  entered  the  skiff.  This  person 
was  immediately  joined  by  a  number  of  others,  who,  emerg- 
ing from  the  cathedral  shadows,  came  rapidly  and  noise- 
lessly down  the  street. 

When  the  last  passenger  had  embarked  and  taken  his 
place  in  silence,  the  ferryman  pushed  his  boat  from  the 
shore,  but  before  he  could  bend  to  his  oars  he  noticed  that 
it  was  speeding  forward  without  aid,  as  if  propelled  by 
invisible  hands. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken,  and  the  poor  ferryman  shivered 


SPE  YER. 


283 


with  fear  when  the  tall  figures  silently  stepped  ashore  as 
soon  as  they  reached  the  opposite  landing  place,  and  van- 
ished one  by  one  in  the  gloom  beyond.  Under  the  great 
cloaks  he  had  caught  a  glitter  of  armor  and  gold  lace,  and 
saw  murderous-looking  weapons  gleam.  The  passenger 
who  first  entered  the  vessel  left  it  last,  and,  pausing  a 
moment,  bade  the  ferryman  watch  for  their  return,  when 
they  would  pay  him  double  fare. 

Three  whole  days  passed  by,  and  in  spite  of  the  anxious 
lookout  of  the  ferryman,  no  trace  of  the  mysterious  pas- 
sengers was  seen.  The  man  was  just  beginning  to  wonder 
whether  he  had  been  the  victim  of  a  hoax  or  of  a  hallucina- 
tion, when  at  midnight  on  the  third  day,  while  he  was  fasten- 
ing his  boat  to  the  landing  at  Spires,  he  suddenly  heard  a 
loud  halloo  from  the  opposite  shore.  Rowing  rapidly 
across,  he  soon  descried  the  same  stalwart  figures,  which 
again  crossed  in  silence  and  vanished  in  the  cathedral 
shadow,  each  dropping  a  coin  in  his  outstretched  palm  as 
they  stepped  out  of  the  ferry. 

The  boatman,  who  knew  everyone  in  town,  wondered 
more  than  ever  who  these  passengers  might  be,  and  when 
morning  dawned  gazed  with  wonder  upon  the  coins  he  had 
received,  for,  instead  of  the  usual  penny,  the  mysterious 
travelers  had  given  him  golden  coins,  each  bearing  a  dif- 
ferent effigy  and  date. 

The  priest  to  whom  he  showed  this  gold,  after  examining 
it  carefully,  declared  that  the  effigies  were  those  of  the 
emperors  buried  in  the  cathedral  of  Spires,  and  silently 
wondered  wiiy  they  had  left  their  tombs. 

On  the  morrow  he  heard  of  the  terrible  three  days'  battle 
at  Leipsic,  and  of  the  defeat  of  the  French.  He  saw  their 
routed  army  wildly  beating  a  retreat  across  the  Rhine,  and 
then  he  knew  that  the  old  legends  were  true,  and  that  the 
German  emperors  had  risen  from  the  tomb,  and  had  gone 
forth  to  battle  to  deliver  the  beloved  fatherland  when  it 
was  in  imminent  danger. 


284 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


It 


tTbe  ITwo  J8ell0* 

The  city  of  Speyer,  which  was  founded  by  the  Romans. 
was  very  important  indeed  in  early  historical  times  in  Ger- 
many, and  was  often  selected  as  capital  by  the  rulers  of  the 
land.  In  this  city  were  once  two  bells,  which  were  never 
rung  by  human  hands,  but  were  said  to  toll  of  their  own 
accord.  One,  made  of  pure  silver,  was  called  the  emperor's 
bell,  for  it  softly  tolled  when  an  imperial  soul  was  called 
away;  the  other,  of  iron,  was  the  sinner's  bell,  and  rang 
whenever  a  notoriously  wicked  person  breathed  his  last. 

On  one  occasion,  a  poor  old  man  lay  dying  on  the  damp 
straw  in  a  hovel  at  Spires,  and  as  his  spirit  passed  away, 
the  emperor's  bell  began  to  ring  a  mournful  knell.  The 
people  all  rushed  out  in  surprise,  for  Henry  V.  was  per- 
fectly well,  and  they  loudly  wondered  how  the  generally 
discriminating  bell  could  make  such  a  mistake,  when  they 
heard  that  it  was  only  a  poor  old  beggar  who  had  just  died. 

That  selfsame  night,  however,  in  spite  of  the  sentinel 
watching  at  the  palace  gate,  the  angel  of  death  stole  in 
and  called  the  emperor  away.  Henry  V.,  who  recognized 
no  superior  on  earth  and  only  followed  his  own  sweet  will, 
was  forced  to  obey  the  summons.  And,  as  his  soul  reluc- 
tantly went  forth  to  meet  his  Maker,  the  sinner's  bell  began 
to  toll,  and  the  people,  turning  over  sleepily  in  their  beds, 
declared  it  was  evident  some  very  wicked  person  had  passed 
away.  When  they  discovered  the  true  state  of  affairs  on 
the  morrow,  they  crossed  themselves  in  awe,  and  whispered 
that  *^Thc  last  shall  be  first  and  the  first  last."  Then 
they  added  that  the  bells  had  proved  to  all  that  a  virtuous 
death  amid  poverty  was  more  worthy  of  honor  than  the 
death  of  an  unrepentant  sinner  at  court,  and  that  the  souls 
of  the  good  were  imperial  in  God's  sight. 


I 


PHILIPPSBURG.  ^%% 

PHILIPPSBURG. 
Zhz  IRaw  •Recruit 

A  RAW  recruit  was  once  stationed  upon  the  walls  of 
Philippsburg,  which  was  then  besieged  by  the  French,  and 
told  to  mount  guard  there,  an  unimportant  point  being 
assigned  him,  as  the  captain  fancied  he  was  none  too  quick- 
witted. 

The  Frenchmen,  however,  who  were  weary  of  the  siege, 
had  just  decided  to  attempt  a  midnight  surprise,  and  select- 
ing this  point  as  the  most  likely  to  further  their  enterprise, 
they  noiselessly  brought  their  scaling  ladder  and  placed  it 
against  the  wall.  Nimble  as  a  cat,  a  Frenchman  climbed  up 
the  ladder,  reached  the  top,  and  peered  over  the  wall  just 
as  the  sentinel  reached  that  point,  which  was  at  the  end  of 
the  place  he  had  been  told  to  guard. 

The  raw  recruit  calmly  raised  his  bayonet  and  thrust 
the  Frenchman  back  so  suddenly  that  he  lost  his  balance 
and  fell  over,  but  without  uttering  a  single  cry.  The  senti- 
nel resumed  his  walk  as  if  no  interruption  had  occurred, 
but  when  he  came  back  to  this  spot,  he  again  saw  a  black, 
pointed  mustache  appear  above  the  wall. 

^*  Ah,"  thought  the  raw  recruit,  **you  want  a  second  dose, 
do  you  ?"  and  he  again  thrust  back  the  foe,  and  resumed  his 
walk.  Twelve  times  in  succession  the  same  pale  face,  with 
beady  black  eyes  and  pointed  mustache,  peered  over  the 
wall,  and  twelve  times  the  raw  recruit  thrust  it  back,  ere  the 
captain  came  on  his  usual  rounds,  and,  for  form's  sake,  care- 
lessly inquired  whether  the  sentinel  had  anything  to  report. 

**No,  captain,"  answered  the  man,  **  nothing,  except  that 
a  black-mustached  Frenchman  tried  to  climb  over  the  wall, 
and  I  had  to  run  my  bayonet  through  him  and  push  him 
over  twelve  times  before  he  would  stop." 

The  captain  first  gazed  at  the  sentinel  in  surprise,  and 
then  contemptuously  bade  him  point  out  the  exact  spot  in 


a80 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


BRETTEN, 


287 


\ 


I 


«l 


the  wall  over  which  the  black  mustache  had  appeared. 
As  he  glanced  carelessly  over  the  wall,  he  suddenly  started 
back  in  amazement,  for  at  the  foot  of  a  great  scaling  ladder, 
which  the  assaulting  party  had  left  there  in  their  panic- 
stricken  flight,  he  saw  twelve  black-mustached  Frenchmen, 
their  pale  faces  turned  upward  and  a  bright  red  spot  in  their 
coats. 

The  captain  reported  the  whole  affair  to  the  general,  and 
concluded  by  inquiring  what  reward  should  be  given,  for, 
while  the  man  only  claimed  that  he  had  'slain  one  enemy, 
twelve  dead  men  lay  in  the  trench. 

**0h,"  cried  the  general,  **  give  him  twelve  times  the 
amount  promised  for  the  death  of  one  enemy,  and  Heaven 
grant  that  I  may  have  plenty  more  such  raw  recruits ! " 


KARLSRUHE. 

TTbc  Ccuiu-jj  IDfBion. 

Count  Karl,  hunting  alone  in  the  forest  one  day,  once 
came  to  a  delightful  spot  near  the  edge  of  the  great  Black 
Forest,  about  one  league  from  the  Rhine,  from  whence  he 
could  obtain  a  wonderful  view.  He  flung  himself  down 
upon  the  grass  to  rest,  listened  to  the  song  of  the  birds, 
the  hum  of  the  insects,  and  finally  fancied  that  he  heard 
an  angel  voice  bidding  him  admire  the  beauty  of  the  scene 
and  compare  its  peaceful  quiet  with  the  restless  bustle  of  his 
court. 

Seated  on  the  soft  green  sward,  Count  Karl  lent  an  atten- 
tive ear  to  that  admonishing  voice,  and  when  in  conclusion 
it  bade  him  build  a  dwelling  there,  that  he  might  occasion- 
ally forget  the  cares  of  state  and  renew  his  youth  by  gazing 
upon  the  imperishable  beauty  of  nature,  he  solemnly  vowed 
to  obey. 

When  the  gathering  shades  of  night  finally  roused   him 


from  his  peaceful  day  dreams,  he  rose  and  wended  his  way 
back  to  the  haunts  of  men,  but  soon  gave  orders  for  the 
construction  of  a  beautiful  little  hunting  lodge,  to  which  he 
gave  the  suggestive  name  of  Karlsruhe,  or  Karl's  resting 
place. 

In  the  course  of  time  this  hunting  lodge  was  transformed 
into  a  palace,  the  primeval  forest  became  a  park,  and  many 
broad  alleys,  branching  out  like  the  sticks  of  a  fan  from  the 
palace,  have  been  lined  with  the  fine  houses  which  now  form 
the  town  of  Karlsruhe. 


BRETTEN. 

Ebe  ^ailleea  Dog. 

Over  the  city  gate  of  the  little  town  of  Bretten  is  the 
image  of  a  tailless  dog,  with  a  crown  above  its  head.  This 
effigy  was  placed  there  in  honor  of  a  dog  belonging  to  a 
cruel  and  hard-hearted  man  in  the  city,  who  had  trained 
the  intelligent  animal  to  do  a  good  part  of  his  work. 

After  a  watchful  night  the  poor  dog  of  Bretten  was  daily 
dispatched  on  various  errands,  and  had  to  go  to  the  butcher's 
and  baker's,  carrying  a  basket  containing  a  slip  of  paper  on 
which  his  master  had  written  his  orders.  After  waiting 
patiently  for  the  butcher's  and  baker's  good  pleasure,  the 
faithful  creature  wended  its  way  home,  carrying  the  heavy 
basket,  receiving  only  the  most  scanty  meals  and  many  a 
blow  in  return  for  its  manifold  services. 

This  master  was  also  an  atheist,  and  wishing  to  show  his 
contempt  for  the  church  he  sent  the  dog  to  the  butcher's 
on  a  solemn  fast  day,  with  an  order  for  several  pounds 
of  nice  fresh  sausages.  Of  course  the  poor  dog  carried  the 
message,  but  the  butcher,  who  was  a  good  Catholic,  was  so 
angry  at  the, man's  sacrilegious  conduct  that  to  punish  him 


11 


l<li 


9M 
"W 


■ 


288 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


he  chopped  off  the  poor  dog's  tail,  flung  it  in  the  basket,  and 
bade  him  carry  it  home. 

The  poor  animal,  after  uttering  a  few  pitiful  howls,  took 
up  his  burden  and  returned  home,  leaving  a  bloody  trail 
behind  him.  Arrived  in  his  master's  presence  he  laid  the 
basket  at  his  feet  as  usual,  then,  weakened  by  loss  of  blood, 
he  fell  down  beside  it,  dead.  The  people  of  Bretten,  touched 
by  the  dog's  fidelity,  placed  his  effigy  over  their  gateway, 
with  the  martyr's  crown  above  it,  and  thus  the  dog,  like 
many  a  hero,  received  the  honors  due  him  only  after  death. 


ALT-EBERSTEIN. 

XTbe  Court  JSalL 

The  castle  of  Alt-Eberstein,  from  which  a  magnificent 
view  can  be  obtained,  not  only  of  the  Rhine  but  also  of  the 
Vosges  and  the  Black  Forest,  belonged  for  many  years  to 
the  family  whose  name  it  still  bears. 

It  seems  that  one  of  the  castle  owners  once  fell  deeply 
in  love  with  the   daughter  of    the   emperor  Otto   I.,   and, 
although  he  and  his  imperial  master  were  not  on  the  best  of 
terms,  he  was  invited  to  be  present  at  one  of  the  court  balls 
at  Spires.     As  he  hoped  to  tread  a  measure  with  his  beloved, 
Eberstein  hastened    joyfully  thither,  and  was  warmly  wel- 
comed by  the  princess.     She,  having  overheard  her  father 
give  orders  to  surprise  the  castle  of  Eberstein  and  take  its 
lord  prisoner  on  his  return  from  the  ball,  was  very  anxious 
indeed  to  warn  her  lover  of  the  threatening  danger.     While 
they  were  dancing  together,  she  managed  to  whisper  ere  the 
waltz  was  ended:  *^  Love,  take  care;  your  castle  is  to  be 
surprised  and  you  will  be  made  prisoner." 

For  a  moment  Eberstein  gazed  at  her  in  amazement,  then, 
suddenly  understanding  the  warning,  he  made  his  way 
unseen  out  of  the  ballroom,  vaulted  upon  his  horse,  reached 


I 


NE  U-EBERS  TEIN, 


289 


home  before  the  attacking  party,  and  cleverly  disposing  an 
ambush,  he  made  them  all  prisoners  without  any  bloodshed. 
Early  the  next  morning  Otto  rode  into  Eberstein  castle, 
which  he  expected  to  find  occupied  by  his  own  men,  and 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  its  owner!  Whether  the 
latter  made  use  of  this  opportunity  to  force  the  emperor  to 
grant  his  consent  to  his  suit,  or  whether  Otto,  admiring  his 
courage,  consented  to  the  marriage  of  his  own  free  will, 
remains  to  this  day  a  matter  of  conjecture. 

What  is  certain,  however,  is  that  a  merry  wedding  took 
place  shortly  after,  and  that  as  Lord  Eberstein  danced  with 
his  bride  he  softly  whispered:  ''  Love,  take  care;  you  will  be 
made  prisoner  !  "  The  princess,  in  spite  of  this  warning, 
made  no  attempt  to  escape,  but  blushing  rosy  red,  declared 
she  felt  no  fear  of  a  jailor  whose  only  bonds  were  love. 


NEU-EBERSTEIN. 


!   1  »„ 


:ount'6  Xcap. 


The  castle  of  Neu-Eberstein,  which  towers  above  the 
Murg,  a  tributary  of  the  Rhine,  was  once  closely  surrounded 
by  the  Wurtemburgers,  who,  in  anger,  had  solemnly  vowed 
to  remain  there  until  they  had  starved  Wolf  von  Eberstein  to 
death.  Aware  that  nothing  would  induce  them  to  rescind 
this  vow,  and  anxious  to  save  his  garrison  from  slow  death 
by  famine  and  to  effect  his  escape,  the  daring  lord  of  Eber- 
stein mounted  his  favorite  steed,  and  galloping  wildly  along 
the  ramparts  suddenly  made  it  leap  down  into  the  swollen 
river  below. 

The  enemy,  who  had  viewed  this  rash  leap,  rushed  to  the 
steep  banks  of  the  river,  and  saw  master  and  steed  rise  safely, 
breast  the  tide,  and  vanish  in  the  forest  on  the  opposite 
side.  The  prisoner  having  flown,  the  Wurtemburgers  raised 
the   siege,  but  the  account    of   this  prowess   reaching  the 


I 


290 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHTNE, 


emperor,  so  excited  his  admiration  that  he  pardoned  the 
count  of  Neu-Eberstein  and  permitted  him  to  return  to  his 
fortress,  where  tourists  can  still  see  the  famous  spot,  known 
as  '*the  Count's  Leap,"  from  which  he  sprang  into  the 
river. 


BADEN. 


TTbe  I>evfrd  Diil|»it 

Not  very  far  from  the  ruins  of  Alt-Eberstein,  and  on  the 
road  to  the  castle  of  Neu-Eberstein,  are  two  great  rocks, 
popularly  designated  as  the  angel's  and  the  devil's  pulpits. 
The  legend  concerning  them  relates  that  the  devil  once  left 
the  red-hot  regions  of  the  nether  world,  and  came  upon 
the  surface  of  the  earth  through  the  springs  of  Baden,  which 
have  since  retained  a  peculiar  sulphurous  taste. 

His  Satanic  Majesty  was  in  search  of  new  victims  to  roast 
in  his  everlasting  fires,  and  as  there  were  then  no  gaming 
tables  at  Baden,  and  the  place  offered  less  scope  for  the 
exercise  of  his  talents  than  it  has  done  since,  he  posted  him- 
self on  the  edge  of  the  highway,  and  began  to   preach  with 

great  eloquence. 

Either  because  they  wished  to  judge  of  the  devil's  theo- 
logy, or  because  they  were  anxious  to  obtain  a  near  view  of 
the  preacher,  priest,  knight,  and  peasant  turned  aside  to 
hear  what  he  had  to  say,  and,  fascinated  by  his  eloquence, 
allowed  him  to  prove  in  the  most  plausible  way  that  black 
was  white,  and  white  was  black,  and  that  wickedness  and 
virtue  were  synonymous  terms. 

Just  as  the  devil  fancied  he  had  fully  convinced  his  hearers, 
the  heavens  suddenly  opened,  and  a  radiant  angel,  palm  in 
hand,  floated  down  upon  snowy  pinions,  and  taking  up  his 
station  on  a  rock  directly  opposite  him  began  to  preach  also, 
but  in  a  far  different  strain. 

The  devil  raised  his  voice  louder  and  louder  to  drown  the 


I 


OBERACHERI^, 


•91 


sound  of  the  angel's  gentle  admonitions,  and  preached  faster 
and  faster,  redoubling  his  proofs  and  arguments,  but  one 
by  one  his  hearers  left  him  to  gather  around  the  angelic 
preacher,  and  listen  to  every  word  from  his  lips.  Before 
long,  therefore,  Satan  found  himself  entirely  deserted.  In  a 
fit  of  ungovernable  rage  the  devil  then  tore  up  grass,  trees, 
and  shrubs  by  the  roots,  stamped  his  red-hot  feet  on  the 
rock  until  he  left  their  imprint  there,  and  finally  vanished  in 
an  abominable  atmosphere  of  curses,  sulphur,  and  brimstone. 
The  traveler  passing  by  can  still  see  the  two  pulpits,  but 
the  diabolical  and  aitgelic  preachers,  instead  of  remaining 
there,  are  both  wandering  incessantly  around  the  world  still 
trying  to  win  proselytes. 


OBERACHERN. 


Wo^t^ 


.^  Cburcb* 


A  WILD  troop  of  Huns  once  came  to  Oberachern,  where 
they  knew  they  would  find  a  convent  and  seven  lovely  nuns, 
whom  they  had  determined  to  torture  in  everyway  to  compel 
them  to  renounce  their  vows.  The  poor  nuns,  hearing  of 
the  barbarians'  invasion  and  unable  to  defend  themselves, 
took  refuge  in  the  church,  bolted  the  heavy  oaken  doors, 
and,  kneeling  before  the  altar,  began  singing  with  all  their 
might,  *'  Good  Lord  deliver  us  !  " 

The  Huns  soon  came  up  and  tried  to  force  open  the  doors, 
which  resisted  their  first  onslaught,  but  the  pious  nuns  con- 
tinued  their  fervent  prayer,  singing  as  loud  as  they  could. 
Then,  seeing  their  hands  were  not  strong  enough  to  break 
in  the  oaken  doors,  the  barbarians  rushed  into  the  neighbor- 
ing forest  to  cut  down  trees  to  serve  as  battering  rams. 

But,  when  they  would  fain  have  made  use  of  them,  they 
found  the  church  had  been  changed  into  an  impenetrable 
rock,   and  although  they  could    still    hear  the  pious  nuns 


\ 


u 


11 


I 


ll 


411 


2p2  LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 

Chanting  loudly  "  Good  Lord  deliver  us!"  they  were  not 
able  to  get  at  them,  and  were  obliged  to  withdraw  entirely 
baffled  The  nuns  are  said  to  inhabit  this  rock  still,  and 
to  be  occupied  in  praising  God  forever,  and  many  a  peasant, 
passing  near  the  stone  church  at  nightfall,  avers  he  has 
caught  the  sound  of  their  pious  hymns. 


TRIFELS. 


«93 


MUMMELSEE. 

dbc  inaatct  Spritco. 

The  almost  circular  sheet  of  water  known  as  the  Mum- 
melsee,  surrounded  by  rocky,  pine-covered  slopes,  is  said  to 
be  haunted  by  a  water  god,  called  Miimmel,  and  by  his 
numerous  daughters,  the  beautiful  nymphs,  named  MUmmel- 
chen.  No  fish  are  found  in  these  waters,  which  generally  He 
smooth  and  unruffled  in  their  dark  bed. 

The  le<^ends  relate  that  a  desperate  poacher  once  slew  the 
gamekeeper  of  the  neighboring  forest,  and  flung  the  body 
into  the  Mummelsee,  thinking  it  would  keep  the  secret  of 
his  crime  Before  he  could  extricate  his  garments  from  the 
thorn  bush  near  the  water  brink,  however,  and  escape  up 
the  hillside,  the  irascible  water  god,  who  would  not  even 
allow  a  pebble  to  be  cast  into  his  domain,  rose  up  out  of  the 
waters,  caught  him  by  the  ankles,  and  drew  him  irresistibly 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  where  he  was  drowned  in 
punishment  for  his  crime. 

The  daughters  of  old  Mummel  are  said  to  rise  up  out  ot 
the  lake  on  moonlight  nights,  to  dance  on  the  green  sward, 
clad  all  in  white,  with  glistening  pearls  and  diamonds  in 
their  long  golden  hair.  During  the  daytime  these  maidens 
in  the  form  of  water  lilies,  rock  gently  upon  the  smooth 
waters,  and,  as  they  are  weary  with  the  night's  exertions, 
they  fall  sound  asleep  soon  after  the  rising  of  the  sun.  1  heir 
grim  old  father,  Mummel,  is  said  to  keep  close  watch  over 


II 


them  and  when  the  first  glimmer  of  dawn  appears,  he  slowly 
rises' out  of  the  flood,  beckons  sternly  to  his  dancing 
daughters,  and  imperiously  commands  them  to  return  to 
their  native  element,  and  resume  the  flower-like  form  which 
serves  to  delude  mortals  and  conceals  their  true  nature. 


TRIFELS. 

TTbe  f  aitbfnl  Ainattel. 

Battered  walls  and  a  ruined  tower  are  all  that  now 
remain  of  the  castle  of  Trifels,  famous  in  history  and  legend 
as  the  prison  of  Richard,  the  lion-hearted  king.  During 
the  third  crusade  Richard  and  Leopold  of  Austria  were 
engaged  in  besieging  the  stronghold  of  Acre.  As  both 
were  noted  for  their  courage,  they  vied  with  one  another  in 
performing  many  valiant  deeds  of  arms,  and  little  by  little 

became  rivals.  .         , 

Leopold  of  Austria,  jealous  of  Richard's  superior  glory, 
finally  gave  up  the  siege  and  returned  home,  vowing  in  his 
heart  that  should  the  opportunity  ever  present  'tself  he 
would  make  the  king  of  England  rue  the  day  when  he  had 
outdone  him.  This  chance  occurred  only  too  soon,  for 
Richard  on  his  way  home  shortly  after  suffered  shipwreck 
on  the  coast  of  lUyria,  and  found  himself  obliged  to  work 
his  way  back  to  England  alone  and  on  foot. 

Disposing  of  his  garments,  the  only  thing  he  had  saved, 
for  a  pilgrim's  robe  and  scrip,  Richard  proceeded  on  his  way, 
passing  safely  through  the  greater  part  of  Austria.  Finally 
he  found  himself  obliged  to  pawn  his  signet  ring  at  an  inn 
to  obtain  food.  This  ring,  being  shown  to  Leopold,  revealed 
the  pilgrim's  identity.  Richard  was  therefore  seized  by  his 
enemy,  who  imprisoned  him  in  the  Fortress  of  Durrenstein, 
where  he  detained  him  prisoner  until  Henry  IV.  of  Germany 
took  him  into  custody,  and  transferred  him  to  the  castle  of 
Trifels  on  the  Rhine. 


I 


\\ 


I 


I 


294  LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 

While  Richard  was  languishing  thus  in  prison,  wondering 
why  his  faithful  subjects  made  no  attempt  to  find  him;  his 
brother,  John  Lackland,  usurped  the  throne  and  was  reign- 
ing in  England  according  to  his  own  sweet  will.  The  Eng- 
lish hated  his  rule  and  longed  for  Richard's  return,  but  only 
one  of  them,  Blondel,  the  king's  minstrel,  ventured  to  set 

out  in  search  of  him. 

Shrewdly  conjecturing  that  his  master  must  be  detained 
prisoner  by  the  emperor  of  Germany,  in  one  of  his  many 
strongholds,  Blondel  wandered  from  place  to  place,  ques- 
tioning  all  he  met,  and  playing  a  peculiar  air  known  to  him 
and  the  king  only  at  the  foot  of  every  dungeon  where  he 
fancied  Richard  might  be  detained. 

After  many  weary  months  of  wandering,  Blondel  came  at 
last  to  Trifels,  where  he  as  usual  played  his  lay.  Imagine 
his  delight  when  he  suddenly  heard  a  voice  within  take  up 
the  strain  and  sing  the  second  verse.  Richard,  his  long  lost 
master,  was  found,  and  his  weary  search  was  ended  at  last. 

Of  course  the  poor  minstrel  could  not  deliver  the  king; 
but  he  hastened  back  to  England,  told  the  English  noble- 
men the  result  of  his  journey,  and  soon  prevailed  upon  them 
to  negotiate  for  his  master's  release.  Richard  came  home  in 
triumph  as  soon  as  the  required  ransom  had  been  paid, 
ousted  the  traitor,  John  Lackland,  and  ruled  over  England 
until  1 199,  when  he  died  and  was  buried  in  the  principal 
church  of  Rouen,  where  his  tomb  can  still  be  seen. 


ZABERN. 
TOe  5ealou6  Dusban^ 

The  haughty  Lord  of  Zabern,  or  Saverne,  was  proud  of  his 
castle,  proud  of  his  wealth,  and  particularly  proud  of  his 
beautiful  young  wife,  who  was  as  virtuous  as  she  was  pretty. 
Unfortunately  for  her,  the  Lord  of  Saverne  was  of  a  jealous, 
suspicious  disposition,  and  listened  only  too  often  to   the 


ZABERN. 


•95 


advice   of    Robert,    his  huntsman,  who  by  skillful    flattery 
had  won  great  influence  over  him. 

Robert  having  discovered  the  count's  jealousy,  and  wish- 
in^  to  get  rid  of  the  fair  countess'  young  page,  tridolin, 
whose  position  he  envied,  gradually  managed  to  convey  to 
his  master,  by  sly  innuendo,  that  his  mistress  took  more 
interest  in  the  page  than  was  seemly,  as  he  was  deeply  in 
love  with  her.      The  count  of  Saverne  flew  into  a  terrible 
passion  when  he  heard  this,   and  vowed  he  would  take  a 
terrible  revenge  if  the  tidings  were  true.      As  they  came 
home  from  the  hunt  one  day,  Robert  mahciously  directed 
his  master's  attention  to  Fridolin,  who  was  gratefully  kiss- 
ing the  countess'  hand  as  was  then  customary  when  a  favor 
had  been  received.     The  count,  willfully  misconstruing  this 
simple  action,  rode  off  in  hot  haste  to  his  f--!^^^^;  J^//; 
he  bade  his  men  kindle  a  great  fire  and  roast  alive  the  first 
person  who  came  to  inquire  whether  his  orders  had  been 

fulfilled.  ,  „  . ,  ,.       J 

This  done,  he  returned  home,  summoned  Fndolin,  and 
bade  him  hasten  off  to  the  foundry  and  ask  whether  his 
orders  had  been  carried  out.  The  young  page,  remem- 
bering that  he  was  specially  in  the  countess'  service,  sought 
her  presence  ere  he  departed  to  inquire  whether  she  had 
any  commands  for  him.  He  found  her  anxiously  bend.ng 
over  her  sick  child,  and  she  told  him  to  enter  the  church  on 
his  way  and  pray  for  her  babe's  recovery,  adding  that  God 
would  surely  grant   the   prayers   of   one  as   innocent  and 

dutiful  as  he.  •„  i.       t, 

Fridolin  immediately  set  out,  entered  the  village  church, 
and  finding  the  priest  embarrassed  because  his  acolyte  was 
not  there  to  serve  the  mass,  the  page  offered  his  services. 
He  rang  the  little  bell,  made  the  responses,  and  carefully  set 
aside  the  holy  vessels,  hastening  on  to  the  foundry  only 
when  all  his  pious  duties  had  been  accomplished,  and  the 
prayer  for  the  child's  recovery  duly  said.  In  the  mean- 
while Robert,  to  whom  the  count  had  confided  his  plan, 


296 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


anxious  to  make  sure  that  Fridolin  was  dead,  had  hurried 
secretly  to  the  foundry.  As  he  did  not  enter  the  church 
he  reached  the  goal  first,  and  inquired  whether  the  count's 
orders  had  been  fulfilled. 

**  Not  yet,"  answered  the  grim  founders,  **but  they  soon 
will  be,"  and  before  he  could  utter  a  protest  they  seized 
and  flung  him  into  the  furnace,  where  he  was  soon  burned  to 
a  crisp.  Fridolin,  coming  up  a  few  minutes  later  with  his 
question,  was  gleefully  told  to  look  into  the  flames,  where 
he  saw  a  blackened  corpse,  and  he  hurried  back  to  his 
master,  who  was  greatly  amazed  when  he  saw  him  appear. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes,  however,  the  count  of 
Saverne  had  learned  the  whole  story,  and  realizing  now  how 
foolish  had  been  his  jealousy,  he  declared  that  God  had 
taken  the  judgment  into  his  own  hands  and  punished  the 
real  criminal.  Then,  leading  Fridolin  to  the  countess, 
whose  child  was  now  peacefully  asleep,  he  commended  him 
to  her  good  graces,  telling  her  how  greatly  he  had  mis- 
judged them  both,  and  how  happy  he  was  to  find  he  had 
been  needlessly  jealous. 


STRASBURG. 
CatbcDral  XedenD0. 

The  first  cathedral  of  Strasburg,  founded  by  Clovis  in 
510,  almost  immediately  after  the  conversion  at  Zulpich,  was 
almost  entirely  destroyed  by  fire  a  few  centuries  later,  and 
replaced  by  the  present  building,  which,  although  begun  in 
the  twelfth  century,  rose  very  slowly  and  still  remains 
unfinished. 

Various   architects    have   had   a   share   in    erecting    this 
magnificent  building,  but  the  chief  legendary  interest  is  con- 
centrated around  the  name  of   Edwin  of  Steinbach,  who 
after  laboring  at  it  for  many  a  year,  left  the  continuation  oC 
his  task  to  his  children. 


li 


i 

•f 


\ 


STRASBURG   CATHEDRAL. 
Side   Portal. 


'lii 


<:tj?  /i  ^RTTPn 


STRASBURG. 


297 


This  architect,  wandering  about  in  search  of  stone  suit- 
able for  the  construction  of  the  cathedral  tower,  once  found 
a  quarry  near  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  where  the  stone  was 
enriched  by  tiny  veins  of  gold.  He  decided  to  use  this 
material,  and  then  began  to  think  about  the  plan  which  the 
bishop,  Werner  of  Hapsburg,  had  bidden  him  design. 

On  his  way  home  from  the  quarry,  Steinbach  lost  his 
way  and  accidentally  came  to  a  little  chapel  in  the  woods, 
built  on  the  plan  of  the  manger.  It  was  the  first  rudely- 
fashioned  sanctuary  which  the  pious  missionaries  had  erected 
on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  While  kneeling  at  the  altar 
there,  the  architect  was  suddenly  inspired  with  the  general 
design  of  the  cathedral  he  was  to  build.  He  hastened 
home  and  informed  the  bishop  that  he  was  ready  to  begin 
the  construction.  A  day  was  appointed  for  the  laying  of 
the  corner  stone,  and  as  the  bishop  had  promised  full  abso- 
lution instead  of  money  to  all  those  who  labored  diligently 
at  the  erection  of  the  cathedral,  he  soon  found  plenty  of 

workmen. 

Werner  of  Hapsburg,  in  full  pontifical  array,  lowered  the 
great  corner  stone,  and  blessed  it,  while  the  people  all 
eagerly  pressed  forward  to  touch  it.  Two  brothers,  stand- 
ing in  the  first  rank,  accidentally  jostled  each  other.  The 
elder,  who  was  irascible,  resented  being  pushed.  In  anger, 
he  then  and  there  slew  his  junior,  whose  blood  defaced  the 
purity  of  the  priestly  garments  and  of  the  corner  stone. 

The  murderer  was  immediately  seized  and  condemned  to 
die,  but  ere  he  was  led  away  to  be  hung,  he  fell  at  the  bishop's 
feet  and  repentantly  exclaimed: 

**  My  lord,  I  acknowledge  that  I  deserve  to  die,  but  let 
not  my  death  be  entirely  in  vain.  Directly  under  the  corner 
stone,  which  you  have  just  lowered,  are  living  springs  which 
will  in  time  undermine  the  foundations  and  prevent  their 
enduring  for  ages  as  you  hope.  But,  if  you  bury  me,  a 
murderer,  beneath  that  stone,  the  waters,  pure  and  unde- 
filed,  shrinking  from  contact  with  my  polluted  bones,  will 


rte 


k 


'r 

'It     H 


>l    If] 


298 


LEGENDS  OF    THE  RHINE. 


STRASBURG. 


299 


work  their  way  to  the  surface  elsewhere,  and  my  body  will 
serve  as  a  protection  to  the  cathedral." 

Strange  to  relate,  the  murderer's  suggestion  was 
adopted,  the  ponderous  stone  again  raised,  and  the  man  of 
his  own  free  will  stepped  down  into  the  hollow  prepared  for 
it,  and  gave  the  signal  for  its  descent.  The  stone  thus 
lowered  upon  a  living  man  forms  the  corner  of  the  Stras- 
burg  cathedral  tower,  and  as  it  still  stands  firm,  popular 
superstition  avers  that  the  murderer's  bones  had  the  desired 
effect. 

Edwin  of  Steinbach,  as  already  stated,  dying  before  the 
cathedral  was  finished,  implored  his  son  and  daughter, 
Jean  and  Sabine,  to  continue  his  work,  and  bitterly  regretted 
that  he  had  never  committed  to  paper  the  complete  de- 
sign. When  he  had  been  duly  laid  to  rest  in  the  unfinished 
cathedral,  where  his  monument  can  still  be  seen,  the  magis- 
trates of  Strasburg  decreed  they  would  intrust  the  com- 
pletion of  the  work  to  the  artist  who  furnished  the  best 
design,  and  soon  all  the  architects  in  town  were  drawing 
diligently. 

Jean  of  Steinbach,  in  his  feverish  eagerness  to  fulfill  his 
father's  last  request,  overworked  himself  and  fell  seriously 
ill  before  his  plan  was  finished.  In  his  delirium  he  con- 
stantly murmured  that  another  would  wear  his  father's 
laurels.  These  ravings  greatly  troubled  his  sister  Sabine, 
especially  when  Polydore,  a  young  architect  who  had  long 
sued  for  her  hand  in  vain,  proudly  exhibited  his  plan,  which 
was  very  beautiful  indeed. 

The  maiden  could  not  restrain  her  tears  at  the  thought 
of  her  brother's  bitter  disappointment,  so  Polydore  offered 
to  suppress  his  plan,  and  finish  Jean's,  providing  Sabine 
would  promise  to  marry  him.  But  the  girl,  who  had  plighted 
her  troth  to  another  young  architect,  called  Bernard,  vir- 
tuously refused  to  break  faith,  even  to  save  her  brother's 
Hfe  and  secure  the  fulfillment  of  her  father's  last  wish. 

That  selfsame  night,  as  she  sat  before  her  brother's  draw- 


ing table,  upon  which  a  great  sheet  of  parchment  was  spread, 
she  idly  seized  a  pencil,  and,  overcome  by  the  weariness  pro- 
duced by  several  night's  watching,  fell  asleep  still  holding  it 
in  her  hand.  When  she  awoke  she  gazed  at  the  sheet  in 
wonder,  for  it  was  no  longer  blank,  but  covered  with  a 
wonderful  design.  She  appended  her  brother's  name  to  this 
plan  and  hastened  to  carry  it  to  the  city  hall,  where  she 
arrived  a  few  minutes  only  before  the  contest  was  closed. 
When  the  judges  had  seen  it,  they  all  decided  that  Jean  of 
Steinbach  should  finish  the  work  and  gave  him  the  prize. 

This  news  proved  far  better  than  any  medicine  to  the  sick 
man,  who  was  soon  cured,  and  took  up  his  abode  with 
Sabine  in  a  little  house  very  near  the  cathedral,  that  they 
might  both  be  near  their  work,  for  the  girl,  who  was  a  skill- 
ful sculptor,  was  busy  carving  the  statues  for  the  cathedral 
portal. 

To  her  great  surprise,  however,  the  work  planned  in  the 
evening  was  already  far  advanced  when  morning  dawned. 
Bernard,  her  lover,  soon  noticed  that  the  people  began  to 
look  askance  at  her,  and  to  whisper  about  magic  and  witch- 
craft, evil  insinuations  made  by  Polydore  in  his  jealous 
anger  at  having  failed  to  secure  either  the  girl  or  the  prize. 

One  morning  on  reaching  her  work,  however,  Sabine  was 
greatly  dismayed  to  find  that  one  statue  had  been  sadly  dis- 
figured during  the  night,  and  she  tearfully  showed  it  to  her 
brother  and  lover,  who  also  lived  in  full  view  of  the  rapidly 
advancing  cathedral  tower. 

That  night  Bernard  stood  at  his  window,  thinking  of  his 
beloved,  and  wondering  how  he  could  silence  the  evil 
reports,  when  the  sound  of  hammer  and  chisel  suddenly  fell 
upon  his  ear.  He  glanced  hastily  up  at  the  cathedral  tower, 
whence  the  sound  seemed  to  proceed,  and  saw,  by  the  silvery 
light  of  the  moon,  his  betrothed,  Sabine,  clad  all  in  white, 
with  flowing  hair,  carving  as  busily  as  if  it  were  broad 
noonday. 

A  moment  later  he  heard  another  sound,  and  looking  ott 


!     f 


'     1 


300 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


STRASBURG. 


301 


the  other  side  of  the  tower  he  beheld  Polydore,  rapidly 
defacing  the  delicate  carving  finished  the  day  before. 
Trembling  with  fear  for  his  beloved,  Bernard  hastened 
across  the  square  and  up  the  tower,  and  emerged  noiselessly 
on  the  scaffold  beside  Sabine,  who,  to  his  utter  amazement, 
was  sound  asleep.  The  mystery  was  now  explained,  the 
fragile  girl,  haunted  by  the  thought  of  her  work,  had  become 
a  somnambulist,  and  continued  to  labor  even  in  her  sleep. 
As  he  feared  to  startle  her,  Bernard  stood  motionless  be- 
hind her.  All  at  once  she  paused  in  her  work,  and  then, 
as  if  disturbed  by  the  louder  hammering  on  the  other  side 
of  the  tower,  glided  suddenly  round  the  corner. 

Polydore,  terrified  by  this  apparition  in  white,  stepped 
back  into  space,  and  with  a  blood-curdling  cry  fell  to  the  foot 
of  the  tower,  a  mangled  corpse.  This  cry  awakened  Sabine, 
and  she  would  have  fallen  too  had  she  not  been  caught  by 
Bernard.  He  clasped  her  close,  and  gently  revealed  to  her 
the  secret  of  her  somnambulism  and  the  death  of  Polydore, 
and  prevailed  upon  her  to  consent  to  a  marriage  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  that  he  might  be  privileged  to  watch  over  her 
even  in  sleep. 

The  cathedral  tower,  which  is  entirely  finished,  is  adorned 
by  many  a  statue  from  the  fair  Sabine's  hand,  and  the  only 
part  of  the  edifice  which  now  remains  to  be  finished  is   the 

second  spire. 

In  the  south  transept  of  the  cathedral  is  the  world- 
renowned  astronomical  clock,  which  has  replaced  a  some- 
what similar  construction  of  great  anticiuity. 

This  clock,  which  boasts  of  a  complete  calendar  and 
planetary,  regulates  itself  at  midnight  on  the  31st  of 
December,  and  is  calculated  to  run  on  for  an  indefinite  space 
of  time.  The  quarter  hours  are  marked  by  the  successive 
appearance  of  a  boy,  youth,  man,  and  old  man,  and  tlie  days 
of  the  week  by  their  symbolical  gods:  Apollo,  Diana,  Mars, 
Mercury,  Jupiter,  Venus,  and  Saturn. 

At  twelve    o'clock   Christ   and   his  disciples  appear,  the 


latter  marching  gravely  around  their  Lord,  and  a  cock, 
perched  aloft,  stretches  out  its  neck,  flaps  its  wings,  and 
lustily  crows.  A  man  who  turns  an  hourglass  every  sixty 
minutes,  and  an  angel  who  strikes  the  quarter  hour  bell, 
complete  the  number  of  movable  figures,  w^hose  constant 
performance  is  a  source  of  never-failing  wonder  and  delight 
to  the  spectators  crowding  around  it. 

The  first  clock  is  said  to  have  been  the  work  of  one  Isaac 
Habrecht.  While  he  was  engaged  in  its  construction,  a 
little  old  man  continually  haunted  the  spot,  leaning  against 
the  wall  near  by,  and  deriding  all  his  efforts  to  make  it  go. 
Isaac,  however,  paid  but  little  heed  to  the  mocker,  but  when 
the  clock  began  to  run  and  the  little  old  man  vanished,  he 
set  up  an  efiigy  of  him  on  the  very  spot  where  he  had  been 
wont  to  stand.  Angry  at  this,  the  devil,  for  it  was  he,  now 
slyly  whispered  to  the  councilors  that  Isaac  was  about  to 
construct  similar  clocks  for  all  the  other  cathedral  cities, 
and  so  excited  their  jealousy  that  they  determined  to  blind 
the  poor  clockmaker,  so  as  to  hinder  him  most  effectually 
from  ever  duplicating  his  masterpiece. 

In  vain  poor  Isaac  protested  his  innocence,  and  promised 
to  bind  himself  by  solemn  oath  to  work  for  them  alone. 
They  would  not  listen  to  aught  he  said,  and  only  allowed 
him  a  few  hours  reprieve  because  he  declared  there  was  a 
little  piece  of  mechanism  in  the  clock  which  still  required  a 
finishing  touch. 

This  last  thing  being  finished,  they  led  Isaac  away  and 
put  out  his  eyes  ;  but  just  as  the  barbarous  deed  had  been 
committed,  the  sexton  of  the  cathedral  rushed  into  the 
council  hall  to  announce  that  the  wonderful  clock  had 
stopped.  The  councilors  angrily  demanded  of  Isaac  what 
he  had  done  ;  but  after  answering  that  he  had  cursed  it,  and 
that  they  would  never  again  succeed  in  making  it  go,  the 
poor  man  breathed  his  last. 

The  cathedral  annals  declare,  however,  that  the  clock 
ran  on  until   1789,   when    it   stopped   because   the   wooden 


i   \ 


\   '• 


1 1 

>  I 


302 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


works  were  worn  out,  although  the  legends  report  that  it 
stopped  when  the  light  was  quenched  in  Isaac's  eyes,  and 
that  no  watchmaker  ever  succeeded  in  making  it  go  after  he 
had  cursed  it. 

The  present  timepiece,  which  is  deservedly  considered  a 
masterpiece  of  the  clockmaker's  art,  was  finished  and  began 
running  in  1842,  since  when  it  has  excited  the  admiration  of 
visitors  from  every  clime. 


tTbe  flow  of  ^!>eWence» 

Before  the  present  cathedral  was  erected  in  Strasburg, 
Henry  of  Bavaria,  surnamed  the  Holy,  once  entered  the 
church  which  occupied  this  site,  and  falling  on  his  knees 
before  the  bishop,  confessed  that  he  was  weary  and  would 
fain  be  made  a  priest  also,  that  he  might  spend  all  his  time 
in  serving  the  Lord. 

His  courtiers  and  attendants,  hearing  this  request,  began 
to  wail  and  protest,  imploring  him  on  bended  knee  to  con- 
tinue to  govern  them,  and  reminding  him  that  the  country 
needed  him.  The  only  reply  which  the  emperor  made  to 
these  remonstrances  and  prayers,  however,  was  to  lay  his 
crown  and  scepter  on  the  altar,  and  to  fling  his  purple  and 
ermine  robes  at  the  bishop's  feet,  renewing  his  request  to 
be  accepted  as  a  priest. 

The  bishop,  seeing  he  was  in  earnest,  immediately  signified 
his  consent,  and  without  further  ado,  began  the  ceremony  of 
ordination.  He  made  the  emperor  take  all  the  vows,  and 
paid  no  heed  to  the  tears  and  groans  of  the  assembly,  who 
regretfully  witnessed  the  sacrament  which  was  to  rob  them 
forever  of  a  beloved  master. 

When  all  was  ended,  the  bishop  said:  ''  My  son,  you  have 
nuw  taken  the  solemn  vows  of  the  church,  and  have  prom- 
ised to  obey  me,  your  ecclesiastical  superior.  It  is  therefore 
incumbent  upon  you  to  accept,  without  murmur,  the  charge* 


STRASBURG. 


303 


which  I  am  about  to  give  you.  Be  a  priest  of  the  Lord 
Almighty,  serve  him  in  word  and  deed,  but  erect  your  altar 
near  the  throne,  and  by  your  wise  administration  of  the 
government  constantly  show  forth  the  glory  of  God. 
Resume  your  crown,  which  I  trust  is  only  the  perishing 
symbol  of  the  immortal  diadem  awaiting  you  in  heaven,  and 
serve  God  so  faithfully  that  you  will  one  day  hear  the 
grateful  words,  '  Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant; 
enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord.'  " 

Seldom  has  a  charge  been  received  with  more  humility  by 
the  recipient,  and  with  more  enthusiasm  by  the  bystanders, 
overjoyed  to  find  that  they  would  not  lose  their  beloved 
master,  who  courageously  took  up  the  burden  he  had  thought 
to  lay  aside  forever,  and  ruled  faithfully  unto  the  end. 


V 


II 


Conflicting  Cuatoma. 

In  the  days  when  Strasburg  still  belonged  to  the  French, 
a  German  once  came  there  to  pay  a  visit,  and  gladly 
accepted  a  Frenchman's  invitation  to  enter  an  inn  and  take 
a  drink. 

''Why  should  not  the  French  and  Germans  agree  and  be 
good  friends?"  argued  these  two  men.  **Itis  high  time 
that  the  long  feud  between  our  nations  should  come  to 
an  end." 

*'Let  us  drink  to  future  good  fellowship  !  "  exclaimed  the 
Frenchman,  courteously  filling  his  guest's  glass. 

The  German,  who  had  been  carefully  trained  in  his  coun- 
try's etiquette,  immediately  emptied  his  glass,  which  the 
Frenchman  wonderingly  refilled  ere  he  touched  his  own  wine. 
The  German  promptly  emptied  it  again,  only  to  see  it 
refilled  before  he  could  catch  his  breath. 

Prevented  from  quenching  his  own  thirst  by  the  rapidity 
with  which  the  German  emptied  the  contents  of  his  glass, 


i  f 


li 


STJ?A<:FiTTT?n 


3^4 


LEGENDS   OF    THE  RHINE. 


STRASBURG, 


the  Frenchman  began  to  get  wrathy,  and  poured  faster 
and  faster,  while  the  German  rapidly  became  apoplectic  in 
hue,  and  finally  exclaimed: 

**Donner  Wetter,  mine  freund,  what  do  you  mean  by  tax- 
ing my  politeness  so  sorely  ?  " 

''  Tonnerre  de  mille  bombes  !  "  sputtered  the  Frenchman, 
**  it  is  you  who  are  taxing  my  politeness." 

'*Bah!"  answered  the  German,  **  every  beardless  lad  in 
Germany  knows  that  a  guest  is  in  common  courtesy  bound 
to  drink  immediately,  and  without  flinching,  any  stuff  his 
host  chooses  to  set  before  him,  but  no  human  being  could 
be  expected  to  drain  glass  after  glass  as  fast  as  a  man  can 
pour." 

^*  Ah!"  said  the  Frenchman,  ''every  schoolboy  in  France 
knows  that  a  guest's  glass  should  never  remain  empty, 
even  for  a   moment." 

From  argument  to  dispute,  the  Frenchman  and  German 
soon  came  to  blows,  and  only  when  weary  did  they  part, 
exclaiming  that  people  who  could  not  even  agree  in  such 
a  simple  matter  as  drinking  could  never  be  good  friends, 
and  that  it  was  quite  evident  that  the  two  nations  would 
never  long  remain  at  peace. 


The  little  town  of  Zurich,  in  Switzerland,  once  sought  the 
alliance  of  Strasburg,  but  the  magistrates  of  the  larger  city, 
thinking  so  small  an  ally  of  no  importance,  rudely  declared 
that  Zurich  was  too  far  away  to  lend  them  any  assistance  in 
case  of  need  and  bluntly  refused  the  honor. 

When  the  councilors  of  Zurich  read  the  Strasbur<rers' 
answer  they  were  very  indignant  indeed,  and  talked  of 
challenging  them,  but  the  youngest  among  them  declared  he 
would  make  them  eat  their  words,  and  pledged  his  honor  to 
bring  a  different  answer  ere  long. 


The  other  councilors  agreed  to  let  him  arrange  the  matter 
as  he  pleased,  and  leisurely  returned  to  their  dwellings, 
while  this  man  went  home  in  a  great  hurry,  selected  the 
biggest  pot  in  his  kitchen,  and  calling  his  wife,  bade  her 
cook  as  much  oatmeal  as  it  would  contain.  Wondering 
greatly  at  this  command,  the  woman  quickly  bade  her  serv- 
ants build  a  roaring  fire,  and  stirred  and  cooked  the  oatmeal 
while  her  husband  rushed  down  to  the  quay,  prepared  his 
swiftest  vessel,  collected  a  number  of  the  best  oarsmen,  and 
when  all  was  ready,  bade  two  of  them  accompany  him  home. 
He  sprang  breathless  into  the  kitchen,  and  learned  that  the 
oatmeal  was  ready.  So  he  bade  the  youths  lift  the  pot  from 
the  fire,  and  run  down  to  the  boat  with  it.  He  followed 
them  quickly,  saw  it  placed  in  the  stern,  and  turning  to  his 
men,  exclaimed: 

'*  Now  lads,  row  with  all  your  might,  for  we  are  bound  to 
prove  to  those  stupid  old  Strasburgers  that  we  are  near 
enough  to  serve  them  a  hot  supper  in  case  of  need." 

Inspired  by  these  words  the  youths  bent  to  their  oars,  and 
the  vessel  shot  down  the  Limmat,  Aar,  and  Rhine,  leaving 
town,  village,  and  farm  in  its  wake,  and  only  stopping  when 
it  reached  the  quay  at  Strasburg.  The  councilor  sprang 
ashore,  bade  the  two  youths  follow  with  the  huge  pot,  and 
striding  into  the  council  hall,  had  it  set  before  the  assembled 
magistrates,  and  exclaimed; 

''Gentleman,  Zurich  sends  a  warm  answer  to  your  cold 
refusal." 

With  gaping  mouths  the  Strasburgers  gazed  at  the  still 
steaming  pot,  and  when  the  young  Zuricher  explained  how 
it  got  there,  they  were  so  amused  by  the  wit  and  prompti- 
tude which  their  would-be  allies  had  displayed,  that  they 
unanimously  voted  for  the  alliance.  It  was  duly  signed  and 
sealed  ere  they  called  for  spoons,  and  laughing  heartily,  ate 
every  bit  of  the  oatmeal,  which  was  declared  excellent,  and 
proved  hot  enough  to  burn  more  than  one  councilor's  mouth. 

Ever  since   then    this  huge  iron  pot,  which  is  known  as 


I  f 


306 


LEGENDS   OF    THF    RHThTP 


3o6 


LEGENDS  OF   THE   RHINE. 


the  **pot  of  alliance,'*  has  been  carefully  preserved  in  the 
town  hall  of  Strasburg,  where  it  can  still  be  seen. 


HASLACH. 

B  aiatiteaa"  |>Iitetb(tt00. 

In  mythical  ages  there  dwelt  at  Nideck,  in  Alsace,  a 
mighty  and  gigantic  race.  The  daughter  of  the  Nideck 
giant,  a  damsel  of  colossal  size,  in  spite  of  her  tender  years, 
once  started  out  for  a  walk.  As  her  mode  of  locomotion 
consisted  in  clearing  with  a  bound  all  intervening  valleys, 
she  soon  arrived  at  Haslach,  where  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  suddenly  beheld  a  peasant  plowing  his  field. 

Delighted  with  the  marvelous  activity  of  these,  to  her, 
wonderful  and  tiny  beings,  she  clasped  her  hands  in  rapture^ 
then  snatched  up  peasant,  plow,  and  team,  and  bundling 
them  into  her  apron,  ran  home  as  fast  as  her  legs  could 
carry  her. 

'  1  ather,  see  the  pretty  playthings  I  found  yonder  in  the 
valley,"  and  she  opened  her  apron  to  let  him  see  the  new 
found  treasure. 

**  My  daughter,"  said  the  giant  gravely,  **  these  are  no 
playthings,  but  living  creatures  as  well  as  we.  Carry  them 
quickly  back  to  the  place  where  you  found  them,  and  hence- 
forth forbear  to  lay  a  finger  upon  them,  for  those  tiny  crea- 
inrcs  are  destined  to  be  our  supplanters." 

Sorrowfully  the  giant  maiden  carried  peasant,  plow, 
and  team  back  to  the  field,  set  them  down  in  the  unfinished 
iurruw,  and  returned  home,  mourning  the  loss  of  the  cun- 
ning playthings  which  she  had  not  been  permitted  to  retain. 


I 


ECKHARDTSBERG,  307 

ECKHARDTSBERG. 

trannbau^eu 

The  eminence  known  as  the  Eckhardtsberg  is  one  of  the 
favorite  haunts  of  the  faithful  German  mentor,  Eckhardt 
who  IS  supposed  still  to  linger  near  there.  His  object  is  to 
prevent  rash  mortals  from  listening  to  the  alluring  strains 
of  Venus,  who  has  taken  refuge  within  this  mountain,  in 
order  to  entice  travelers  thither  to  enjoy  all  manner  of 
sensual  pleasures  in  her  company. 

Tannhauser,  the  master-singer,  wandering  near  there, 
once  heard  her  alluring  song,  and  wending  his  way  into  the 
mountain,  forgot  the  lovely  maiden  to  whom  he  had  been 
betrothed,  and  yielding  to  Venus*  witching  spells,  spent 
some  time  in  her  company.  After  a  while,  however,  the 
carnal  pleasures  offered  him  palled  upon  his  taste,  the  long- 
mg  for  the  pure,  disinterested  love  of  his  betrothed  returned 
to  him,  and  forcibly  wrenching  himself  out  of  Venus'  detain- 
ing arms,  he  hastened  out  of  the  mountain  and  into  the 
neighboring  valley. 

He  would  fain  have  returned  into  the  presence  of  his 
betrothed,  but  the  recollection  of  the  time  he  had  spent  in 
the  Venus  mountain  filled  him  with  such  loathing,  and  the 
sense  of  his  sin  was  so  oppressive,  that  he  hastened  off  to 
Rome  to  confess  all  to  the  Pope,  and  implore  him  to  grant 
him  absolution  for  his  sins. 

When  Pope  Urban  had  heard  his  confession  he  recoiled 
with  horror,  and  told  the  heartbroken  Tannhauser  that  since 
he  had  visited  the  heathen  goddess,  he  could  no  more  hope 
for  forgiveness  of  his  sins  than  he  could  expect  the  papal 
staff  to  become  green  again  and  bear  leaves. 

Sadly  now  Tannhauser  wended  his  way  home  once  more, 
and,  disowned  by  all,  a  moral  outcast,  he  finally  resolved  to 
return  to  Venus,  and  taste,  to  the  dregs,  the  only  joys  now 
allowed  him.     In  vain  the  faithful  Eckhardt  sought  to  detain 


M  I 


3oS 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


ECKHARD  T SB  ERG, 


309 


him,  Tannhauser  vanished  in  the  Venus  hill,  whence  he 
never  again  emerged.  A  few  moments  after  he  had  vanished, 
a  messenger  of  the  Pope  came  in  search  of  him,  for  the  papal 
staff  had  budded  and  borne  leaves,  thus  proving  to  Urban 
that  the  minstrel's  sin  was  not  as  unpardonable  as  he  had 
declared,  and  that  absolution  should  be  granted  to  all  truly 
repentant  sinners. 

The  news  had  come  too  late,  however,  for  Tannhauser 
had  returned  to  Venus,  with  whom,  tradition  declares,  he 
will  remain  until  the  judgment  day. 

This  legend,  which  is  also  told  of  the  Horselberg  in 
Thuringia,  has  further  been  connected  with  the  Wartburg 
and  the  fair  mistress  thereof,  who,  loving  Tannhauser,  is 
said  to  have  died  of  grief  when  he  returned  unforgiven  from 
Rome.  Wagner  has  made  use  of  this  beautiful  tradition,  and 
has  founded  upon  it  his  immortal  opera  of  **  Tannhauser,'* 
wiucii  is  always  heard  with  new  delight.* 


Che 


Bumb  plaintiff. 

The  story  of  '*The  Bell  of  Atri,"  which  Longfellow  has 
so  charmingly  told  in  his  **  Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn,"  is 
said  to  have  originated  in  Eckhardtsberg  near  Breisach. 

In  early  days,  when  the  ruins  now  crowning  the  hill  were 
part  of  a  strong  fortress,  the  lord  of  Eckhardtsberg,  wishing 
to  render  justice  to  all  men,  placed  a  bell  in  his  tower.  He 
fastened  to  it  a  long  piece  of  rope  which  hung  outside  the 
gate,  within  easy  reach  of  every  hand,  and  bade  all  those  who 
wished  redress  to  ring  it  loudly,  promising  to  grant  them 
an  immediate  hearing. 

One  day  the  bell  pealed  loudly,  and  when  in  answer  to  its 
call  the  lord  of  Eckhardtsberg,  followed  by  all  his  retainers, 
came  out  to  hear  the  complaint,  he  was  surprised  to  find  a 
poor  old  horse,  which,  urged  by  hunger,  was  trying  to  chew 
the  end  of  the  hempen  rope.  One  of  the  bystanders  im- 
♦See  '*  Stories  of  the  Wagner  Operas,"  by  the  author. 


mediately  recognized  the  horse  as  belonging  to  a  neighbor- 
ing knight.  For  many  a  year  the  horse  had  been  his  favorite 
steed,  had  borne  him  safely  through  many  a  fight,  but  now 
that  it  was  old  and  useless  the  cruel  master  had  turned  it 
out  to  seek  pasture  along  the  highway,  where  it  found  but 
scant  subsistence. 

The  lord  of  Eckhardtsberg,  seeing  the  animal's  sorry 
plight,  and  hearing  how  faithfully  it  had  served  its  master  in 
the  days  of  its  youth,  declared  that  in  return  for  its  former 
services  it  should  now  be  treated  with  respect,  and  con- 
demned the  unfeeling,  avaricious  owner  to  give  it  a  place  in 
his  stable  and  plenty  of  food  as  long  as  it  lived.  Long- 
fellow closes  his  version  of  this  legend  thus: 

"  And  thereupon  the  Syndic  gravely  read 
The  proclamation  of  the  king  ;  then  said  : 
*  Pride  goeth  forth  on  horseback,  grand  and  gay. 
But  Cometh  back  on  foot,  and  begs  its  way  ; 
Fame  is  the  fragrance  of  heroic  deeds, 
Of  flowers  of  chivalry  and  not  of  weeds  ! 
These  are  familiar  proverbs  ;  but  I  fear 
They  never  yet  have  reached  your  knightly  ear. 
What  fair  renown,  what  honor,  what  repute 
Can  come  to  you  from  starving  this  poor  brute  ? 
He  who  serves  well  and  speaks  not,  merits  more 
Than  they  who  clamor  loudest  at  the  door. 
Therefore  the  law  decrees  that  as  this  steed 
Served  you  in  youth,  henceforth  you  shall  take  heed 
To  comfort  his  old  age,  and  to  provide 
Shelter  in  stall,  and  food  and  field  beside.' 
The  knight  withdrew  abashed,  the  people  all 
Led  home  the  steed  in  triumph  to  his  stall. 
The  King  heard  and  approved,  and  laughed  in  glee, 
And  cried  aloud  :   *  Right  well  it  pleaseth  me  I 
Church-bells  at  best  but  ring  us  to  the  door  ; 
They  go  not  in  to  mass  ;  my  bell  doth  more  : 
It  Cometh  into  court  and  pleads  the  cause 
Of  creatures  dumb  and  unknown  to  the  laws; 
And  this  shall  make  in  every  Christian  clime, 
The  Bell  of  Atri  famous  for  all  time." 

—  Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn. — Longfellow. 


i.( 


^     fl 


310 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


BASEL. 


'  . » • 


The  people  of  Basel,  however  antiquated  and  behind  the 
times  they  may  be  in  other  matters,  are  nevertheless  an 
hour  ahead  of  all  the  other  Swiss  cities.  The  legends 
account  for  this  fact  by  reporting  that  once,  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  some  traitors  within  the  city  walls  promised 
to  open  the  gates  and  deliver  the  town  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy  as  soon  as  the  clock  struck  the  midnight  hour. 

This  plan,  discussed  'and  agreed  upon  in  secret,  was 
detected  by  the  warder  of  the  gate.  It  was  too  late  to  give 
the  alarm  or  warn  the  magistrates,  for  he  knew  that  he  was 
closely  watched  and  would  be  murdered  if  he  attempted  to 
slip  away  and  reveal  the  treacherous  design.  As  the  old 
man  was  also  bell  ringer,  he  quickly  devised  a  way  to  out- 
wit the  enemy,  and  creeping  noiselessly  up  to  the  tower,  he 
carefully  manipulated  the  clock,  which,  instead  of  striking 
twelve,  slowly  and  solemnly  tolled  out  one. 

The  conspirators  within  awakened  at  this  sound,  for  they 
had  fallen  into  a  doze  while  waiting  for  the  agreed  signal. 
They  immediately  concluded  that  they  had  either  missed  the 
time  or  been  discovered,  and  stole  cautiously  away,  while  the 
enemy  without,  equally  surprised  at  hearing  but  one  stroke, 
vainly  waited  for  the  gates  to  be  opened,  and  were  obliged 
to  steal  away  angry  and  crestfallen  in  the  gray  dawn. 

When  the  mayor  inquired  on  the  morrow  why  the  clock 
was  an  hour  ahead  of  time,  the  warder  revealed  the  conspiracy, 
and  the  means  which  he  had  used  to  save  the  town.  The 
city  council,  quickly  convened,  disposed  of  the  traitors, 
praised  the  warder,  and  decreed  that  the  clock  should 
ever  after  remain  an  hour  ahead  of  time,  to  remind  the 
inhabitants  of  Basel  of  their  narrow  escape. 

To  mock  their  would-be  assailants,  the  Baslers  also  placed 
upon  the  tower  a  mechanical  figure  called  the  *'  Lallenkonig," 


f* 


f    ! 


I 


i  II 


BASLE. 
Old  City  Gate. 


BASEL, 


6' 


which  derisively  stuck  out  its  tongue  every  few  seconds. 
In  time  this  curious  statue  was  transferred  to  the  bridge, 
and  from  thence  to  the  city  museum,  where  it  can  still  be 
seen,  although  the  mechanism  is  now  out  of  order  and  it  no 
longer  protrudes  its  tongue. 

Basel,  which  is  situated  at  the  great  bend  in  the  Rhine 
where  it  suddenly  turns  northward,  was  founded  by  the 
Romans,  but  soon  became  a  free  city  and  entered  the  Swiss 
confederacy  in  1501.  Its  most  remarkable  building  is  the 
cathedral,  built  by  Henry  II.  in  loio,  on  the  site  of  a  former 
church  erected  by  Charlemagne  and  almost  destroyed  by  a 
terrible  earthquake  in  1336.  In  this  cathedral  lie  buried 
the  learned  Erasmus  and  the  empress  Anna,  wife  of  Rudolf 
of  Hapsburg.  In  the  Basel  museum  are  fragments  of  Hol- 
bein's famous  **  Dance  of  Death,"  curious  articles  of  ancient 
household  furniture,  a  collection  of  musical  instruments, 
and  the  armor  of  Charles  the  Bold,  duke  of  Burgundy. 


ytom  Castle  to  Cot 

Not  far  from  Basel  rose  the  castle  of  Christopher  of 
Ramstein,  who,  having  inherited  it  from  spendthrift  ances- 
tors, soon  found  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  sell  it  in  order 
to  satisfy  the  claims  of  old  creditors.  Honorable  in  all 
things,  Christopher  sold  all,  reserving  nothing  for  himself, 
and  when  the  bargain  was  concluded,  he  divided  the  money 
among  the  assembled  creditors,  paying  every  debt  in  full. 

Although  not  a  penny  was  over  when  he  had  ended,  and 
although  he  and  his  lovely  young  wife  were  homeless  and 
destitute,  Christopher  of  Ramstein  stood  proudly  in  their 
midst,  thankful  to  know  that  no  stain  rested  upon  his  name. 
The  creditors,  touched  by  his  brave  bearing,  now  crowded 
around  him,  offering  him  aid.  But  he  refused  it,  saying  he 
had  hired  a  little  dwelling,  was  about  to  till  the  soil  for  a  rich 


3" 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


'I 


farmer,  and  was  sure  that  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  he  would 
be  able  to  secure  daily  bread  for  himself  and  his  wife,  who 
had  nobly  encouraged  him  to  do  his  duty. 

The  creditors  insisted  upon  giving  him  something,  how- 
ever, so  he  begged  them  to  procure  for  his  wife  a  silken  dress, 
as  he  could  not  bear  to  see  her  attired  in  the  rough  gar- 
ments they  had  assumed,  for  they  had  even  sold  their  clothes 
to  clear  their  debts.  The  silken  garment  was  immediately 
ordered,  and  the  Basel  merchants  furnished  such  good  mate- 
rial that  the  dress  lasted  for  many  a  year.  Christopher, 
returning  home  from  his  work  in  the  fields  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  his  lovely* wife,  clad  as  richly  as  of  old,  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway  of  their  humble  cottage  to  welcome  him 
home  with  the  loving  kiss  which  made  him  forget  toil  and 
privation,  and  their  mutual  love  enabled  them  to  remain 
happy,  though  poor,  as  long  as  they  lived. 


f"    TT^  .■'*  '^  t"  F^ 


Some  fragments  of  the  celebrated  fresco  painted  in  the 
fifteenth  century,  and  generally  known  as  '^The  Dance  of 
Death,"  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  cathedral  of  Basel,  in  the 
St.  Nicholas  chapel.  These  peculiar  figures  inspired  Goethe 
to  write  a  poem  upon  them  which  has  been  translated  into 
English  and  is  added  here  ; 

'*  The  warder  looks  down  at  the  mid  hour  of  night 
On  the  tombs  that  lie  scattered  below  ; 
The  moon  fills  the  place  with  her  silvery  light, 
And  the  churchyard  like  day  seems  to  glow. 
When  see  !  first  one  grave,  then  another  opes  wide, 
And  women  and  men  stepping  forth  are  descried. 
In  cerements  snow-white  and  trailing. 

•*  In  haste  for  the  sport  soon  their  ankles  they  twitch, 
And  whirl  round  in  dances  so  gay  ; 
The  young  and  the  old,  and  the  poor,  and  the  rich. 


C 

n 

•-I 

a 
a 

D 

a 
O 


> 

in 

r 


f 


BASEL, 

But  the  cerements  stands  in  their  way  ; 

And  as  modesty  cannot  avail  tliem  aught  here 

They  shake  themselves  all,  and  the  shrouds  soon  appear, 

Scattered  over  the  tombs  in  confusion. 

•*  X   w  waggles  the  leg  and  wiggles  the  thigh, 
As  the  troop  with  strange  gestures  advance, 
And  a  rattle  and  clatter  anon  rises  high, 
As  of  one  beating  time  to  the  dance. 
The  sight  of  the  warder  seems  monstrously  queer, 
When  the  villainous  tempter  speaks  thus  in  his  ear  ; 
*  Seize  one  of  the  shrouds  that  lie  yonder  I  * 

•*  Quick  as  thought  it  was  done !  and  for  safety  he  fled 
Behind  the  church  door  with  all  speed  ; 
The  moon  still  continues  her  dear  light  to  shed 
On  the  dance  that  they  fearfully  lead. 
But  the  dancers  at  length  disappear  one  by  one, 
And  their  shrouds,  ere  they  vanish,  they  carefully  don. 
And  under  the  turf  all  is  quiet. 

**  But  one  of  them  stumbles  and  shuffles  there  still, 
And  gropes  at  the  graves  in  despair. 
Yet  'tis  by  no  comrade  he's  treated  so  ill  ;— 
The  shroud  he  soon  scents  in  the  air. 
So  he  rattles  the  door — for  the  warder  'tis  well 
That  'tis  blessed,  and  so  able  the  foe  to  repel, 
All  cover'd  with  crosses  in  metal. 

*'  1  nc  shroud  he  must  have,  and  no  rest  will  allow. 
There  remains  for  reflection  no  time  ; 
On  the  ornaments  Gothic  the  wight  seizes  now, 
And  from  point  on  to  point  hastes  to  climb, 
Alas  for  the  warder  !  his  doom  is  decreed. 
Like  a  long-legged  spider,  with  ne'er  changing  speed. 
Advances  the  dreaded  pursuer, 

**  The  warder  he  quakes,  and  the  warder  turns  pale, 
The  shroud  to  restore  fain  had  sought ; 
When  the  end — now  can  nothing  to  save  him  avail- 
In  a  tooth  formed  of  iron  is  caught, 
With  vanishing  luster  the  moon's  race  is  run 
When  the  bell  thunders  loudly  a  powerful  One, 
And  the  skeleton  falls,  crush 'd  to  atoms." 

— Goethe, 


%  'J  3 


vf 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


AUGST. 

TTbe  5naF?c  ladt*. 

At  a  short  distance  from  Basel  is  the  picturesque  little 
town  of  Augst,  and  near  here,  according  to  the  legend,  is  a 
hollow  mountain,  in  which  a  mysterious  creature  has  taken 
up  her  abode.  This  creature,  half  woman  and  half  snake, 
is  detained  there  by  a  horrible  spell,  from  which  she  can  be 
released  only  if  a  pure  youth  voluntarily  kisses  her  thrice. 
As  the  legend  declares  she  will  reward  her  deliverer  by 
giving  him  a  great  treasure,  which  she  is  guarding  with  the 
help  of  two  baying  hell  hounds,  several  youths  have  been 
anxious  to  find  her.* 

A  youth  of  Augst,  named  Leonard,  who  was  somewhat 
of  a  simpleton,  being  told  of  this  wonderful  creature,  was 
desirous  to  see  her.  He  therefore  armed  himself  with  a 
taper,  which  had  been  duly  blessed  by  the  priest,  and  ven- 
turing alone  into  the  legendary  valley,  soon  discovered  an 
iron  door  in  the  mountain  side.  He  quickly  passed  through 
It,  along  a  corridor,  and  came  at  last  to  a  beautiful  cave, 
wiiere  he  saw  a  lovely  woman  beckoning  to  him  to  draw 
near. 

Beside  her  was  a  great  chest,  on  either  side  of  which  sat 
two  fierce  hounds,  whose  wild  barking  the  lady  stilled  with 
a  gentle  wave  of  her  hand.  Then,  taking  a  key  from  the 
bunch  at  her  belt,  she  unlocked  the  chest,  and  the  dazzled 
youth  saw  gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones  in  untold  pro- 
fusion. 

**A11  these  treasures  will  be  yours,  good  youth,  if  you 
will  only  thrice  kiss  my  lips,"  replied  the  lady,  advancing 
toward  him,  and  then  Leonard  noticed,  for  the  first  time, 
that  although  the  upper  part  of  her  body  was  lovely  indeed,' 
the  lower  was  formed  of  the  repulsive  coils  of  a  snake! 
After  a  moment's  hesitation,  however,  he  drew  near  and 
twice  kissed   the  snake   lady's   lips,   but,  frightened  by  the 

*  See  Note  i6  in  Appendix. 


SAKINGEN. 


315 


swishing  of  her   tail,  he   fled   ere   the   last   kiss  had  been 
given. 

In  his  terror  he  rushed  out  of  the  cave  and  into  the 
town,  where  some  youths,  under  pretext  of  helping  him 
recover  his  senses,  made  him  drunk,  while  extracting  the 
particulars  of  his  tale. 

Un  the  morrow,  sober  once  more  and  longing  to  release 
the  lady  from  the  loathesome  spell  which  bound  her,  and  to 
secure  his  reward,  Leonard  again  set  out,  1  at,  as  he  was  no 
longer  perfectly  pure,  he  could  not  find  the  entrance  to  the 
cave.  Since  then  many  a  youth  has  tried  to  find  it  and  win 
the  treasure,  but  as  these  young  men  had  some  time  in  their 
life,  lied  or  stolen,  drunk  or  sworn,  they  were  not  allowed 
to  find  the  mysterious  door,  and  the  snake  lady  is  still 
waiting  for  her  deliverer. 


sXkingen. 


St.  #nDolin. 

St.  Fridolin,  the  holy  hermit  who  had  taken  up  his 
abode  near  Sakingen  on  the  Rhine,  that  he  might  preach 
the  gospel  and  at  the  same  time  save  the  people  from  a 
watery  grave,  was  present  at  the  death  of  Count  Urso,  who 
promised  him  all  his  lands  and  wealth  for  the  newly- 
founded  monastery. 

But,  when  Count  Urso  had  duly  been  laid  to  rest  in  his 
grave  at  Claris,  his  only  brother  Landolf  seized  all  his  in- 
heritance, utterly  refusing  to  give  it  up  to  Fridolin  when 
he  came  to  claim  it.  To  end  the  saint's  importunities,  he 
finally  declared  that  if  his  statement  were  true,  he  need  only 
summon  his  dead  brother  to  appear  in  Rankwyl,  where  he 
was  about  in  du s;)ense  justice,  and  there  personally  declare 
that  he  wished  the  property  to  go  to  the  monastery,  or  he 
would  never  relinquish  it. 


3i6 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


SAKINGEN, 


3  *  I 


Without  wasting  another  word,  Fridolin,  though  old  and 
feeble,  wended  his  way  over  the  mountains  to  Claris,  sum- 
moned Urso  to  rise  from  the  tomb,  and  leading  the  dead 
man  to  Rankwyl,  and  into  the  courtroom,  bade  him  speak 
aloud  and  declare  his  last  wishes. 

In  sepulchral  tones  Urso  now  addressed  his  brother, 
stated  he  had  willed  all  his  wealth  to  the  monastery,  and, 
still  led  by  Fridolin,  retraced  his  steps  to  Claris,  when  he 
resumed  his  place  in  the  tomb.  As  for  Landolf,  convinced 
by  this  miracle  of  the  truth  of  Fridolin's  words,  he  not 
only  relinquished  all  claims  to  his  brother's  wealth  but  also 
willed  his  own  property  to  the  monastery,  dying  peacefully 
a  few  days  later,  and  being  laid  to  rest  beside  his  brother. 


tTbe  Cntmpetet  ot  SSfifttdetu 

The  little  town  of  Sakingen,  with  its  picturesque  castle, 
is  famous  principally  on  account  of  Scheffel's  delightful  poem 
**The  Trumpeter  of  Sakingen,"  which  forms  also  the  basis 
of  a  pretty  modern  opera  by  Nessler.  The  outline  of  the 
poem,  which  is  one  of  the  Cerman  classics,  and  which  has 
inspired  several  artists,  is  as  follows: 

Late  in  March,  when  the  snow  still  lay  thick  upon  the 
wuuded  paths  of  the  Black  Forest,  a  handsome  young  man 
rode  briskly  along,  peering  right  and  left  in  search  of  a 
village  or  farm  where  he  might  take  shelter  during  the 
rapidly  approaching  night.  The  wind,  blowing  his  wide 
cavalry  cloak  aside  from  time  to  time,  revealed  a  bright 
bugle,  which  the  young  man  tried  to  guard  iiom  the  fine 
snow  which  came  powdering  down  from  the  ilr  ir  inches  on 
either  side  of  the  narrow  path.  Ere  l(jn£(  the  youth 
emerged  from  the  dark  pine  forest,  and  drawing  rein  at 
the  top  of  a  hill  saw  the  Rhine  at  his  feet,  a  iilLle  town  on 
the   opposite    shore,    in   the    midst  of  sheltered    meadows, 


where  the  grass  was  already  growing  green,  and  in  tiie 
background  the  long  range  of  snowy  mountain  tops, 
illumined  by  the  setting  sun  and  flashing  beneath  its  last 
rays.  Standing  there,  he  watched  the  light  glow  and  dis- 
appear, saw  the  gray  shadows  slowly  creep  upward  until 
they  reached  the  topmost  peaks,  then,  seizing  his  bugle,  he 
played  a  merry  tune  which  roused  all  the  neighboring 
echoes. 

This  gay  music  attracted  the  attention  of  a  village  priest, 
slowly  climbing  the  hill.  As  he  turned  the  bend  in  the 
road  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  trumpeter,  entered  into 
conversation  with  him,  and  hospitably  invited  him  to 
accompany  him  to  the  parsonage,  where  he  promised  him 
a  hearty  welcome.  The  trumpeter  gladly  accepted  the 
priest's  cordial  invitation,  accompanied  him  home,  and  after 
supper  began  to  tell  the  good  old  man  his  story. 

Young  Werner,  for  such  was  the  trumpeter's  name,  came 
from  Heidelberg,  where  he  had  paid  but  scanty  attention  to 
the  learned  discourses  of  his  professors,  but  had  diligently 
taken  music  lessons  from  an  old  army  trumpeter,  who  was 
troubled  by  chronic  thirst,  which  could  only  be  quenched 
by  many  a  glass  of  beer.  When  Werner  was  eighteen  his 
guardian  strongly  advised  him  to  study  law,  but  after  vainly 
trying  to  concentrate  his  attention  upon  the  various  codes, 
the  youth  pawned  his  books,  and,  joining  a  noisy  band  of 
students,  led  a  merry  life.  He  serenaded  the  pretty  Heidel- 
berg girls  by  moonlight,  fought  countless  harmless  duels, 
and  led  such  a  generally  reckless  life  that  he  was  finally 
expelled  by  the  college  faculty. 

After  paying  his  debts — for  in  spite  of  all  his  high  spirits, 
the  young  man  was  honorable  to  a  fault — Werner  enlisted 
in  a  cavalry  corps,  and  after  the  end  of  the  Thirty  Years' 
War  found  himself  the  owner  of  a  fine  young  steed  and  of 
his  beloved  bugle,  with  the  whole  world  open  to  him  su  tliat 
he  could  range  about  it  at  will. 

The  village  priest,  in  answer  to  his  inquiries,  told  him 


3iS 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


that  the  neighborinor  town,  which  he  had  seen  from  the 
heights,  was  Sakingen,  where  the  holy  missionary  St.  Fridolin 
had  once  established  his  hermitage,  set  up  a  cross,  and 
daily  tolled  a  bell  for  morning  and  evening  prayers,  which 
at  first  he  alone  attended. 

Little  by  little,  however,  the  good  saint  had  preached  to 
the  Alemans,  converted  them,  and  so  won  their  good  graces 
that  he  was  soon  able  to  build  and  endow  the  monastery  of 
Sakingen— thanks  to  their  gifts.  Dying  at  last  in  the  odor 
of  sanctity,  St.  Fridolin  was  buried  in  the  church  he  had 
founded,  and,  as  he  was  considered  the  patron  saint  of  the 
town,  all  the  inhabitants  were  wont  to  celebrate  his  festival 
by  a  solemn  yearly  procession,  which  was  to  take  place  on 
the  morrow. 

Werner,  attending  this  festival,  saw  and  fell  in  love  with 
a  beautiful  young  lady  who  headed  the  detachment  of  girls, 
and,  feeling  sentimentally  inclined,  he  entered  a  boat  at 
nightfall  and  rowed  slowly  down  the  Rhine.  Suddenly  the 
young  god  of  the  Rhine— the  same  who  further  down  the 
stream  is  called  old  Father  Rhine— slowly  rose  up  out  of  the 
water,  told  him  how  many  lovers  he  had  seen  since  he  had 
taken  up  his  abode  in  that  stream,  and  how  clearly  he  could 
recognize  all  the  symptoms  of  dawning  passion. 

Then,  pointing  slyly  to  a  neighboring  castle,  he  told 
Werner  that  the  lady  of  his  dreams  dwelt  there,  and  hinted 
that  if  he  could  not  devise  some  way  of  attracting  her  atten- 
tion, he  was  not  worthy  of  being  called  a  lover.  Thus 
encouraged,  Werner  rowed  down  to  the  castle  landing, 
sprang  ashore,  and,  seeing  a  light  up  at  the  window,  put  his 
bugle  to  his  lips  and  breathed  forth  the  sweetest  and  tender- 
est  of  love  songs. 

These  liquid,  eloquent  notes  fell  not  only  upon  the  ear  of 
the  young  lady,  but  also  attracted  the  attention  of  her 
gouty  old  father,  who  was  just  then  telling  her  how,  when 
young,  and  prisoner  of  war  in  France,  he  had  fallen  in  love 
with  and  won  the  affections  of  her  sainted  mother.     Leaning 


SAKINGEN, 


3'9 


upon  his  daughter's  arm,  the  old  man  limped  to  the  window, 
hoping  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  musician,  who,  standing  in 
the  shadow  of  the  trees,  could  not  be  seen  from  above. 

The  old  lord  then  summoned  a  servant,  bidding  him 
hasten  down,  present  his  compliments  to  the  musician,  and 
invite  him  to  enter  the  castle,  unless  perchance  the  music 
was  produced  by  the  ghost  of  the  old  trumpeter  of  Sakingen 
who,  after  repeated  potations,  had  been  drowned  in  the 
Rhine  the  year  before.  The  old  servant's  movements  were 
in  no  wise  accelerated  by  these  last  words,  and  Werner  had 
re-embarked  and  rowed  out  into  midstream  ere  he  reached 
the  garden.  Forced  to  pursue  his  search  for  the  musician 
in  the  streets  of  Sakingen  on  the  morrow,  old  Anton  found 
him  in  the  city  inn,  and  invited  him  to  the  castle,  where 
Werner  hastened  with  joyful  alacrity.  There  he  gladly 
accepted  the  post  of  cornetist  in  the  old  lord's  band,  as  well 
as  of  music  teacher  to  the  lady  of  his  dreams. 

A  new  life  now  began  for  Werner,  who,  admitted  in  the 
bosom  of  the  gouty  old  lord's  family,  daily  saw  the  fair 
Margaretha,  listened  to  the  old  man's  tales,  took  his  place  in 
the  village  band,  and  spent  all  his  spare  moments  in  com- 
posing charming  love  songs,  which  he  played  and  sang  to 
his  pupil  to  cultivate  her  musical  taste. 

Week  after  week  passed  by  all  too  swiftly,  and  on  the  ist 
of  May  the  old  lord  organized  a  grand  picnic  in  the  Black 
Forest,  inviting  the  ladies  of  a  neighboring  sisterhood,  the 
chief  dignitaries  of  Sakingen,  and  all  the  members  of  his 
band,  who,  enticed  by  the  prospect  of  fishing  and  of  partak- 
ing of  the  celebrated  Mai  Trank,  hastened  thither  joyfully. 

The  al  fresco  feast  ended,  the  schoolmaster  sang  a  song 
of  his  own  composition  to  the  accompaniment  of  Werner's 
bugle,  and  the  performance  won  such  rapturous  applause 
that  Margaretha  laughingly  proposed  to  crown  the  poet 
with  the  dainty  wreath  she  had  just  been  weaving.  Her 
old  father  approved  of  the  idea  ;  still,  knowing  the  old 
schoolmaster    would     prefer    a    more     substantial    prize. 


320 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


sAkingen, 


3«i 


bestowed  upon  him  the  largest  fish  they  had  secured,  and 
bade  Margaretha  crown  W  crner  instead,  as  his  performance 
also  deserved  a  reward.  The  lovely  maiden  blushingly  com- 
plied with  her  father's  request,  and  crowned  the  proud 
young  head  which  bowed  so  humbly  before  her  alone. 

The  poem  then  goes  on  to  relate  how  Werner  and  Mar- 
garetha organized  a  birthday  party  for  the  old  man,  the 
former  training  the  village  band  to  play  a  grand  symphony, 
while  the  latter  hired  an  artist  to  decorate  the  walls  of  a 
garden  pavilion.  When  the  birthday  came,  Margaretha 
triumphantly  led  her  old  father  thither,  and  while  his  ears 
were  delighted  with  the  music  of  his  band,  his  eyes  rested 
admiringly  upon  the  scantily  attired  Loves  and  goddesses 
which  he  admired  greatly,  although  he  acknowledged  that 
in  times  to  come  it  might  prove  necessary  to  paint  a  little 
extra  drapery  over  the  walls  to  satisfy  the  prudish  demands 
of  modern  taste. 

Of  course  all  these  plans  only  drew  the  young  people 
closer  together,  and  Margaretha,  wandering  aimlessly  in  the 
garden  on  the  morrow,  entered  the  arbor,  and,  seeing 
Werner's  trumpet  on  the  table,  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  try  whether  she  too  could  draw  sweet  tones  from  it. 
She  was  quite  unskilled,  however,  and  only  blew  such  harsh, 
discordant  sounds,  that  her  cat  began  to  howl,  and  Werner, 
roused  from  a  day  dream,  stole  noiselessly  up  to  the  arbor 
intending  to  chastise  the  impudent  lad  who  had  dared  to 
touch  his  favorite  instrument. 

But  when  he  saw  Margaretha  with  cheeks  distended  like 
a  musical  cherub,  his  raised  hand  fell,  his  anger  vanished, 
and  he  then  and  there  taught  her  a  simple  bugle  call,  which 
she  readily  learned  to  execute  properly.  Needless  to  add, 
that  after  that  the  enamoured  youth  guarded  the  trumpet 
her  rosy  lips  had  pressed  with  the  most  jealous  care,  con- 
sidering it  his  choicest  treasure. 

A  few  weeks  after  this  occurrence  the  Sakingen  magis- 
trates promulgated  a  new  law,  whereby  the  peasants  were 


taxed  a  little  more  heavily  than  usual,  and  this  decree  so 
enraged  the  people  that  a  riot  ensued.  The  old  lord,  hear- 
ing the  town  was  in  danger,  immediately  set  out  to  defend 
it,  intrusting  the  care  of  his  castle  and  daughter  to  Werner, 
who,  discovering  a  midnight  attempt  to  seize  and  burn  the 
castle,  routed  the  foe  with  much  bravery  but  received  a 
wound  in  the  fray. 

Margaretha,  seeing  him  fall  and  fearing  lest  he  should 
be  slain,  caught  up  his  trumpet  and  blew  a  shrill  call,  which 
made  her  father  hasten  home  in  time  to  drive  away  the  few 
remaining  foes,  gather  up  the  wounded,  and  secure  a  physi- 
cian's service  for  Werner's  wound. 

The  young  hero,  duly  taken  care  of,  soon  sank  into  a  pro- 
found sleep,  during  which  Margaretha  softly  tip-toed  into 
his  room  with  the  physician's  permission,  to  assure  herself 
that  the  youth  was  still  alive  and  that  she  need  have  no 
further  fears  for  his  safety.  Two  days  later  Werner  was 
so  far  recovered  that  he  could  sun  himself  upon  the  castle 
terrace,  where  Margaretha,  coming  accidentally  upon  him, 
showed  so  much  joy  at  his  recovery  that  he  forgot  he  was 
only  a  musician  and  she  a  lady  of  noble  birth,  caught  her 
in  his  arms,  and  rapturously  kissed  her. 

After  a  delightful  hour  spent  together,  exchanging  vows 
and  confessions  of  love,  Werner  returned  to  his  chamber, 
and  only  on  the  morrow  sought  the  old  lord's  presence  to 
make  known  his  love.  Before  he  could  open  his  lips,  how- 
ever, the  baron  informed  him  that  he  had  just  received  a 
letter  from  an  old  army  friend,  who  proposed  to  send  his 
only  son  to  visit  him  in  hopes  that  their  children  might  fall 
in  love  with  each  other,  and  eventually  marry.  This  letter 
the  baron  asked  Werner  to  answer,  giving  a  full  description 
of  Margaretha's  charms,  and  extending  a  cordial  invitation 
to  the  young  man,  but  this  Werner  refused  to  do,  manfully 
confessing  that   he  would  fain  claim  the  young  lady's  hand 

for  himself. 

The  old   baron,  who  had  vowed  his  child  should  never 


li 


( 

i 


S^9 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


marry  any  except  a  nobleman,  now  sadly  dismissed  Werner, 
who,  without  daring  to  see  his  beloved  again,  mounted  his 
steed  and  rode  away,  pausing  only  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  river  to  breathe  a  last  farewell  upon  his  bugle,  while 
gazing  mournfully  at  the  tower  where  dwelt  the  maiden 
whom  he   loved   so  dearly   and   could    never   forget. 

Several  years  now  passed  by,  during  which  Werner  roamed 
from  place  to  place,  ever  faithful  to  Margaretha,  who,  mourn- 
ing his  departure,  gazed  across  the  Rhine  in  the  direction 
in  which  he  had  vanished,  dismissed  her  suitors  without 
vouchsafing  them  a  glance,  and  finally  grew  so  pale  and  thin 
that  her  father  sent  her  to  Italy  in  charge  of  his  sister,  an 
abbess,  thinking  a  change  of  air  would  do  her  good. 

One  Easter  Sunday  in  St.  Peter's  Church  at  Rome,  Mar- 
garetha fainted  at  the  sight  of  Werner,  who,  somber  and 
melancholy,  headed  the  papal  choir,  for  his  musical  talent 
had  won  for  him  the  post  of  chapel  master  and  the  favor  of 
ihe  Pope.  Noticing  the  confusion  of  the  young  musician 
and  the  sudden  swoon  of  the  beautiful  stranger,  the  Pope 
suspected  the  existence  of  an  unhappy  love  affair,  and  hav- 
ing cleverly  learned  the  whole  story,  benevolently  took  upon 
himself  to  make  the  young  people  happy. 

He  summoned  Margaretha  and  Werner  into  his  presence, 
made  the  latter  Marquis  of  Campo  Santo,  and  then,  aver- 
ring that  he  knew  nothing  but  the  lack  of  a  title  had  hindered 
their  union,  he  proposed  to  marry  them  right  away,  a  plan 
which  the  young  people  hailed  with  rapture. 

Their  wedding  journey  back  to  Sakingen  was  a  dream 
of  bliss,  and  the  old  baron,  delighted  to  see  them  both, 
welcomed  them  so  heartily  that  their  measure  of  happiness 
was  full.  Werner  now  breathed  only  the  gayest  tunes  in  his 
trumpet,  which  seemed  incapable  of  producing  the  heart- 
rending tones  which  he  had  played  during  the  past  years 
while  he  was  separated  from  his  beloved,  with  whom  he  now 
lived  blissfully  all  the  rest  of  his  life. 


> 

PC 

w 
r 
r 

H 

O 

> 

n 

>—* 
A 

O 

w 
2: 


i:i 


KdNlGSFELDEN. 


323 


KONIGSFELDEN. 

Ube  Autdec. 

Not  far  from  Hapsburg  castle  are  the  remains  of  the 
ancient  Roman  settlement  of  Vindonissa,  the  rapids  o 
HoUenhaken,  the  Rhine  salt  works,  and  the  town  and 
abbey  of  Konigsfelden.  The  latter  was  founded  in  1310  by 
the  Empress  Elizabeth  and  her  dau-hter  Queen  Agnes  of 
Hungary,  on  the  spot  where  Albert  of  Austria,  husband  of 
the  former,  had  been  murdered  two  years  bef<jre. 

The  Emperor  of  Germany  and  Duke  of  Austria  A  ber, 
or  Albrecht,  after  long  fighting  against  the  Pope  Holland, 
Zealand,  Friesland,  Hungary,  Bohemia,  and  Thunngia, 
heard  in  1308  that  a  rebellion  had  broken  out  among  the 
Swiss  in  the  Cantons  of  Unterwalden,  Schweitz,  and  Un, 
and' hastened  thither  to  suppress  it.  Before  he  could  do 
so,  however,  his  nephew,  John  of  Suabia,  whom  he  had 
defrauded  of  his  rights,  finding  there  was  no  hope  of 
redress,  formed  a  conspiracy  against  him. 

Albert,  having  embarked  with  John  and  three  of  hs 
accomplices  in  a  little  bark  which  was  to  carry  him  to 
Rheinfelden,   was  murdered   by  these  conspirators  in  the 

''ffis  wound,  although  mortal,  did  not  immediately  prove 
fatal,   and   the  emperor,  forsaken  by   the  --/--J  ;^; 
pushed  ashore  and    hastened  to   seek   a   place   of    safety 
breathed  his  last  in  the  arms  of  a  passing  beggar  woman 

who  alone  took  pity  upon  him.  winiam 

This  death,  magnificently  rendered  in  Schiller  s      ^^  ilham 

Tell,"  where  it  forms  an  effective  scene  of  the  play  was  fear- 
fuli;  avenged  by  Agnes  of  Hungary,  w"^"-  ^r  of 'the  old 
pict'ed  on  the  -ined  glass  windows  in  ^^^^^^^^^ 
Konigsfelden  Abbey  Church.  Here  are  also  tne  p 
various  of  the  heroes  who  fell  at  Sempach,  but  as  the  church 
is  in  ruins  these  works  of  art  are  sadly  damaged. 


334 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  RHINE. 


HAPSBURG. 

^be  JSeet  lS>ticxiQz. 

The  ancient  castle  of  Hapsburg,  which  overlooks  the 
Rhine  in  the  Canton  of  Aargau,  is  the  cradle  of  the  imperial 
dynasty  bearing  the  same  name,  and  was  founded  in  1020. 
According  to  the  legend  the  founder  built  no  ramparts 
around  it.  A  neighboring  bishop,  coming  to  visit  him,  so 
loudly  deplored  the  absence  of  all  the  usual  defenses  that 
the  owner,  somewhat  piqued,  boldly  declared  that  ere  sunrise 
on  the  morrow  he  would  have  surrounded  his  castle  with 
impregnable  walls. 

Of  course  the  bishop  smiled  incredulously  at  this  state- 
ment, but  he  was  awakened  on  the  morrow  by  the  count's 
Voice  at  his  bedside,  bidding  him  look  forth  and  satisfy  him- 
self that  his  promise  had  been  duly  kept.  The  bishop  ran 
hastily  to  the  window,  and  saw,  to  his  utter  surprise,  that 
the  castle  was  completely  surrounded  by  th^  count's  fol- 
lowers, all  in  martial  array.  The  men  looked  so  strong 
and  faithful  that  he  could  not  but  recognize,  what  has  ever 
since  been  the  family's  proudest  boast,  that  the  arms  and 
hearts  of  their  devoted  subjects  are  their  principal  defense 
in  all  times  of  imminent  danger. 


SCHAFFHAUSEN. 
rails  ot  tbe  'Rbtne. 

The  falls  of  the  Rhine,  very  near  Schaffhausen,  are  in 
point  of  volume  the  grandest  in  Europe,  for  the  river,  after 
passing  through  the  Lake  of  Constance,  descends  here  over 
a  mighty  ledge  of  rock  about  one  hundred  feet  high. 

In  June  and  July,  when  the  river  is  greatly  swollen  by  the 


EL 


XT 
rs 

XT 
f6 


C/5 

n 
> 

> 
2: 


MAIN  A  U, 


325 


melting  of  the  snow  on  the  Alps,  the  volume  of  water  is  very 
great  indeed,  and  early  in  the  morning  and  late  in  the  after- 
noon the  position  of  the  sun  is  such  that  countless  rainbow 
reflections  can  be  seen,  formed  by  the  sunlight  and  the 
silvery  spray.  The  scene  is  particularly  impressive  by  moon- 
light, and  the  feeling  of  awe  is  increased  by  the  roaring 
sound  of  the  waters,  whose  force  continually  causes  the 
rocks  to  tremble. 

The  earliest  recorded  mention  made  of  these  falls  is  in 
the  year  960,  and  since  then  the  channel  has  apparently  been 
gradually  deepened  by  erosion.  Immediately  above  the 
cataract  rise  the  tall  rocks  upon  which  is  perched  the  pic- 
turesque little  castle  of  Laufen,  now  used  as  a  hotel,  from 
which  a  beautiful  view  of  falls  and  river  can  be  obtained. 
Oil  an  island  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  directly  opposite 
the  falls,  is  another  little  castle  called  Worth,  which  is  a 
favorite  place  of  resort  for  travelers,  as  they  can  from  there 
gain  the  best  idea  of  the  volume  of  water  and  of  tne  height 
of  the  rocky  ledge,  down  which  they  plunge  with  their  con- 
tinuous deafening  roar. 


^\ 


MAINAU. 

Hugo  of  Langenstein,  forced  to  leave  home  to  redeem  a 
vow  made  by  his  father  and  go  and  fight  the  Saracens,  came 
to  the  island  of  Mainau,  in  the  Lake  of  CoHstance,  where 
his  betrothed  dwelt.  He  sadly  took  leave  of  her,  promising 
to  return  when  the  war  was  over  and  to  live  nn  the  island 
with  her,  eat  the  fruit  of  the  trees  they  had  planted  and  drink 
the  wine  pressed  from  the  grapes  of  the  vine  forming  a 
lovely  bower  over  their  heads.  The  lovers'  plans  were 
brought  to  nought,  however,  for  Hugo  soon  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Saracens,  who  detained  him  prisoner  many 
a  year.      Although    he    prayed    for  deliverance    and    his 


3^ 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


betrothed  longed  for  iiis  return,  month  after  month  passed 
by  without  bringing  any  answer  to  their  petition. 

One  night  Hugo  of  Langenstein  was  favored  by  a  vision, 
in  which  an  anjrel  of  the  Lord  bade  him  dedicate  the 
remainder  iA  his  life  to  God  if  he  would  be  free.  In  obedi- 
ence to  this  command,  the  knight,  although  sorely  troubled 
at  having  to  renounce  the  hope  of  eventually  marrying  the 
fair  maid  of  AT  inau,  solemnly  vowed  to  dedicate  his  life  to 
the  service  of  God,  and  enter  the  Teutonic  order  of  knights, 
if  he  were  only  allowed  to  see  his  native  land  once  more. 
Two  days  later  he  was  miraculously  set  free,  steered  his 
course  by  the  stars  across  the  burning  Syrian  plains,  made 
his  way  home,  and,  sending  a  friend  to  Mainau  to  explain 
the  nature  of  his  vow,  he  sadly  sought  the  headquarters  of 
the  Teutonic  order  and  enlisted  in  their  band. 

The  fair  maid  of  Mainau,  hearing  that  her  lover  would 
never  return  to  her,  yet  anxious  to  have  him  know  every 
comfort,  also  journeyed  to  the  same  place.  She  gave  her 
lovely  island  to  the  knights  upon  condition  that  her  lover 
should  be  stationed  upon  it  as  head  of  that  branch  of  the 
order,  and  would  thus  be  able  to  eat  the  fruit  of  her  trees 
and  taste  the  juice  of  her  vines. 

AVhen  this  was  arranged  to  her  satisfaction,  and  all  her 
rights  over  Mainau  had  been  transferred  to  the  Teutonic 
(fii  r,  the  maiden  vanished  and  was  seen  no  more.  Some 
s  IV  siie  built  a  hermitage,  others  that  she  entered  a  convent, 
lit,  however  that  may  be,  Hugo  of  Langenstein  was  soon 
Si  it  to  Mainau,  where  he  spent  many  a  year,  but  never 
I J  mourn  for  his  beloved. 


K.   Wi.i»JV,, 


bvchhorn:  327 

BUCHHORN. 

Count  Ulrich  of  Buchhorn  had  gone  away  from  home  to 
fight  in  Hungary,  and  soon  the  sad  tidings  of  his  death 
reached  his  wife.  She  assumed  a  widow's  garb,  and  spent 
all  her  time  in  doing  good  to  the  poor,  distributing  special 
largesses  on  the  anniversary  of  her  dear  husband's  death, 
when  she  implored  all  the  recipients  of  her  bounty  to  pray 
for  the  rest  of  his  soul. 

Four  years  had  passed  thus,  and  when  the  fourth  anni- 
versary came  around  a  pilgrim  presented  himself  among 
the  beggars,  imploring  her  to  give  him  a  new  garment  to 
replace  his  tattered  robe.  The  gentle  lady  immediately 
bestowed  the  coveted  raiment,  but,  instead  of  the  usual 
thanks,  the  pilgrim  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  passion- 
ately embraced  her. 

The  terrified  lady  called  for  her  servants  to  protect  her, 
sobbing  that  if  her  husband  were  only  living  none  would 
dare  thus  insult  her.  But,  when  the  pilgrim  threw  back  his 
cowl,  she  clung  closely  to  him,  for  she  now  recognized  her 
beloved  husband,  who  was  not  dead,  but  had  come  home  to 
part  from  her  no  more. 


BISCHOFSZELL. 

The  small  town  of  Bischofszell,  at  the  confluence  of  the 
Thur  and  Sitter,  boasts  of  an  arched  stone  bridge  about 
which  the  following  tale  is  told: 

Many  years  ago  a  castle  stood  on  one  side  of  the  river 
Thur,  which  was  then  spanned  by  no  bridge  and  could  riiy 
be  crossed  by  means  of  a  small  boat.     The  lady  of  the  castle, 


t  ? 


3^» 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


standing  at  the  window  to  watch  for  her  sons'  return  from 
the  chase,  one  fine  spring  day,  saw  them  jump  merrily  into 
the  skiff  on  the  opposite  side  and  begin  to  row  across. 

Before  they  had  reached  the  middle  of  the  stream,  how- 
ever, a  sudden  freshet  overturned  the  boat,  and  both  youths, 
after  a  momentary  struggle,  sank  forever  beneath  the  flood 
under  their  distracted  mother's  eyes.  Fearing  lest  some 
other  mother  should  suffer  as  sorely  as  she,  the  poor  lady 
knew  no  rest  until  she  had  built  this  solid  bridge,  and  saw 
little  children  skipping  merrily  to  and  fro  over  it,  no  matter 
how  rapidly  the  waters  rushed  beneath  it. 


ST.  GALL. 


C  nc 


%" 


The  emperor  once  rode  past  the  monastery  of  St.  Gall. 
As  he  was  sorely  oppressed  with  the  cares  of  state  he 
was  so  vexed  to  see  the  plump  and  well-fed  abbot  taking 
his  lasc,  that  he  maliciously  resolved  to  try  and  disturb  his 
equanimity. 

*'.ibbot,"  cried  he,  *'l  .mi  going  to  give  you  three  iiuLb 
to  crack  !  You  must  have  the  answers  all  ready  three 
months  hence,  under  penalty  of  losing  your  place  and  -  f 
riding  through  the  town,  mounted  upon  a  donkey,  with  your 
face  turned  toward  its  tail,  aiuJ  holding  that  appendage 
instead  of  a  bridle.  The  first  question  I  wish  you  to  answer 
is  this:  How  much  time,  within  a  second,  would  I  require  to 
journey  all  around  the  wM  on  horseback?  The  second  is: 
How  much  ami   \  i  a   penny,  when    1  have  my 

imperial  crown  or  i,      y  scepter  in  my  hand,  and  am 

attired  in  all  my  court  robes  ?  And  as  third  riddle  you  will 
ha\  •  ti  rruess  my  thought,  but  remember  you  must  prove 
that  thought  is  not  true  !  " 

Laughing    immoderately   at  the  abbot's   comical  look  of 


% 


1 


ST.    GALL, 


3*9 


blank  dismay,  the  emperor  galloped  off,  delighted  at  having 
so  cleverly  attained  his  purpose,  and  so  eifectually  troubled 
the  poor  man's  peace  of  mind. 

In  vain  the  abbot  questioned  all  the  brethren,  wrote  to 
all  the  universities  and  learned  men,  in  vain  he  burned  the 
midnight  oil  and  turned  over  his  long-neglected  books.  He 
could  not  find  the  least  clew  to  the  answers  of  those  three 
tantalizing  questions,  which  haunted  him  day  and  night, 
deprived  him  of  his  natural  rest,  and  utterly  spoiled  his  once 
so  flourishing  appetite. 

The  three  months  were  nearly  over,  and  the  abbot,  thin 
and  careworn,  wandered  pensively  through  the  monastery 
meadows,  thinking  how  soon  he  would  be  forced  to  leave 
them  forever,  to  be  exposed  to  the  hooting  and  jeering  of 
the  populace,  iiis  reverie  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  an 
exclamation  of  dismay  on  the  part  of  one  of  his  herdsmen, 
who  anxiously  inquired  whether  he  had  been  ill. 

Full  of  his  grievance,  and  touched  by  the  man's  evident 
sympathy,  the  abbot  confided  the  whole  story  to  him,  glibly 
repeating  the  three  perplexing  questions  over  which  he  had 
pondered  so  long,  and  ending  with  a  sigh  of  utter  despair. 
The  herdsman,  who  had  listened  attentively  to  all  his  master 
had  to  say,  then  slowly  remarked  that  if  the  abbot  would 
only  lend  him  his  gown,  miter,  and  crozier,  he  woulf]  will- 
ingly go  to  court  and  answer  the  questions  in  his  stead. 

Rapidly  reasoning  that  in  case  of  failure  the  man  would 
have  to  endure  the  public  disgrace  from  which  he  shrank, 
the  abbot  gladly  gave  him  the  articles  he  asked  for  and  dis- 
missed him  with  a  fervent  blessing  and  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 
The  pretended  abbot  reached  the  imperial  court  at  the 
appointed  time,  and  (^dy  presented  himself  before  his 
sovereign,   who    exclaimed    with    mock   sympathy  : 

"Why,  my  dear  abbot,  huw  you  have  changed  !  You  iie 
no  longer  as  ruddy  and  plump  as  you  were  three  months 
ago.  Have  my  nuts  disagreed  with  you  ?  Pay  strict  atten- 
tior        w,  and   remember  that  upon   your  answers  depend 


33© 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


TOGGENBURG. 


J  j 


your  weal  or  woe.      How  much  time  would  I  require  to  jour- 
ney all  around  the  world  on  horseback  ?" 

'*If  your  majesty  were  to  mount  your  steed  at  the  very 
second  when  the  sun  appears  above  the  horizon,  and  to 
travel  just  as  fast  as  that  luminary,  it  is  certain  your  majesty 
would  ride  all  around  the  world  in  exactly  twenty-four  hours, 
neither  one  second  more  or  less,"  replied  the  false  abbot. 

A  murmur  of  amusement  was  heard  in  the  assembly,  and 
the  emperor,  somewhat  taken  aback  by  the  unexpected 
answer,  continued: 

**  Although  I  might  refuse  to  accept  an  answer  depending 
upon  an  ij\  1  will  waive  .my  right  to  do  so,  providing  you 
aiibvver  the  next  question  correctly;  How  much  am  I  worth 
when  I  have  my  imperial  crown  upon  my  head,  my  scepter 
in  my  hand,  and  am  attired  in  all  my  court  robes?  " 

**  Your  majesty,"  replied  the  shepherd  in  disguise,  **  can- 
not surely  pretend  to  be  worth  more  than  the  Saviour  of  the 
world,  in  spite  of  all  your  jewels.  He  was  sold  for  thirty 
pieces  of  silver,  so  the  very  highest  figure  which  I  can  set 
upon  you  is  twenty-nine  pieces  of  silver." 

**  Well,"  exclaimed  the  emperor  abashed,  yet  not  daring 
to  claim  he  was  worth  more  than  Christ.  *'  I  am  sure  I 
never  rated  myself  as  low  as  that.  But  now,  abbot,  comes 
the  last  question  of  all,  and  if  you  fail  to  answer  it,  remember, 
you  must  straddle  that  donkey.  What  is  my  present  thought, 
and  why  is  it  not  true?" 

**Your  majesty  thinks  I  am  the  abbot  of  St.  Gall," 
answered  the  man  slowly. 

*'  Why,  of  course  I  do,"  interposed  the  emperor 
triumphantly. 

*'  But  your  majesty  is  greatly  mistaken,  however,"  con- 
tinued the  man,  unmoved,  **for  I  am  only  his  shepherd." 

The  emperor  was  so  amused  by  the  man's  shrewdness  and 
ready  wit,  that  he  swore  he  would  grant  him  any  favor  he 
cared  to  ask,  and  even  proposed  to  make  him  abbot  in  his 
master's  place. 


But  the  herdsman  simply  said  that,  since  the  emperor 
kindly  allowed  him  to  choose  his  own  reward,  he  would 
prefer  to  see  his  master  remain  unmolested,  while  he  received 
an  increase  of  wages  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  have  meat 
for  dinner  every  day.  This  unselfish  request  was  duly 
granted,  but  the  abbot  never  again  relapsed  into  the  sloth- 
fulness  which  had  once  so  sorely  irritated  his  imperial 
master.* 


TOGGENBURG. 

fTbe  Couitte00  f  tiNU 

An  old  Toggenburg  legend  relates  that  a  jealous  knight 
of  that  name  once  married  a  fair  wife  by  the  name  of  Itha, 
to  whom  he  gave  a  magnificent  diamond  ring.  The  lady, 
having  laid  it  on  her  table  one  day,  left  the  apartment,  and 
when  she  returned  could  find  no  trace  of  it,  and  all  search 

proved  vain. 

A  few  weeks  later,  however,  the  knight  of  Toggenburg 
met  a  handsome  young  huntsman,  and  seeing  his  wife's 
diamond  ring  upon  his  hand  immediately  concluded  she 
was  faithless.  He  dashed  home,  and  in  an  ungovernable  fit 
of  rage  flung  her  out  of  the  window,  without  even  waiting 
to  hear  whether  she  could  clear  herself  of  the  accusation 
he  hurled  against  her. 

The  countess  of  Toggenburg  was  not  slain,  however,  as 
everybody  supposed,  but  had  fallen  over  the  precipice,  where 
her  fall  had  been  broken  by  angelic  power  or  by  the  slender 
fir  branches  by  which  she  lowered  herself  to  the  ground. 
Fearing  her  husband's  further  violence  she  thereupon  fled 
into  the  woods,  where  she  lived  for  many  a  year  the  life  of  a 

recluse. 

The  knight  of  Toggenburg  having  disposed  forever,  as  he 
thought,  of  his  guilty  wife,  now  sought  the  young  huntsman, 
who  was  dragged  to  death  by  wild  horses,  his  master  learn- 

*  See  Note  17  in  Appendix. 


i.'  '{ 


33« 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


NIDBERG, 


ing  only  after  his  death  that  the  youth  had  found  the  glitter- 
ing ring  in  a  magpie's  nest,  where  it  had  been  carried  by  the 
thievish  birds. 

Full  of  remorse,  the  knight  of  Toggenburg  now  sought 
for  his  wife's  remains  to  bury  them  properly,  at  least,  but 
could  find  no  trace  of  them.  Years  passed  by  and  every 
iLiy  his  sorrow  for  her  loss  became  deeper.  Hoping  to  find 
some  relief  from  torturing  thouirht  in  active  exercise,  he 
finally  set  out  for  the  chase,  and,  penetrating  deep  into  the 
forest,  came  upon  the  hermitage  of  his  pious  wife,  whom  he 
immediately  recognized  and  would  fain  have  carried  home. 

But  Itha  had  taken  a  solemn  vow  to  serve  God  only,  and 
prevailed  upon  her  husband  to  build  Liie  convent  of  St.  Mary 
of  the  ^nirels,  in  honor  of  her  rescue  from  certain  death. 
There  she  spent  the  remainder  of  her  life  in  prayer,  and  her 
husband,  having  given  all  his  wealth  to  the  poor,  followed 
her  example,  and  withdrew  into  a  neighboring  monastery 
to  pray  for  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins. 


Sbe  yaftbfnl  %m€t. 

The  knight  of  Toggenburg,  having  fallen  in  love  with  a 
fair  lady  who  could  not  return  his  affections,  sadly  bade  her 
farewell  and  went  to  fight  in  the  Holy  Land,  whence  he 
returned  only  after  many  a  year.  He  had  not  forgotten 
the  lady  he  loved,  however,  and  hearing  she  had  taken  the 
veil  and  was  now  a  nun  in  the  convent  of  St.  Mary  of  the 
Angels,  he  disposed  of  all  his  wealth,  assumed  a  pilgrim's 
garb,  and,  building  a  little  hermitage  in  the  valley,  spent 
his  days  in  penance  and  prayer.  Early  every  morning  he 
sat  in  the  door  of  his  hut,  gazing  fixedly  up  at  the  convent, 
and  never  moving  until  a  certain  lattice  window  flew  open 
and  a  lovely  face  looked  down  into  the  valley. 

Day   after  day  the   knight   of  Toggenburg  waited   thus, 
but  when  many  years  had  gone,  and  he  was  old  and  feeble. 


1S5 

e  of 


1    !-)t 


he  glanced   up  for  the  last  time,  caught  a  last  glimps 
the  face  of  his  beloved,  and  peacefully  breathed  his  last. 

Schiller  has  given  us  a  beautiful  poetical  version  of  .  . 
legend  which  has  been  translated  and  concludes  with  these 
words: 

**  'Till  her  lovely  looks  entrancing 
All  his  sense  the  while, 
Calm,  adown  the  vale  were  glancing, 
Sweet  as  angel's  smile. 
And  so  sate  he,  there,  one  morning 
Lifeless— witliout  fail. 
To  that  lattice  loved  still  turning 
His  cold  face  so  pale." 

— Schiller, 


NIDBERG. 

TiTE  knight  of  Nidberg,  whose  castle  was  perched  up  on 
one  of  the  picturesque  rocks  near  Sargans,  defended  himself 
so  bravely  against  his  enemy  that  the  latter  was  about  ready 
to  give  up  the  attempt  to  secure  him.  As  the  besiegers 
were  preparing  to  steal  silently  away,  a  pale-faced  woman 
suddenly  appeared  before  the  leader,  and,  declaring  ^r\w 
hated  the  knight,  offered  to  show  him  how  he  might  slay 
him. 

The  enemy  immediately  signified  his  pleasure  at  the 
proposal  and  silently  followed  the  woman,  who  led  him  up 
a  rocky  path  and  brought  him  to  a  cliff  directly  opposite 
the  castle,  whence  he  could  look  straight  down  into  the 
room  where  the  weary  knight  lay  fast  asleep  near  the  open 
window. 

The  woman  pointed  to  the  sleeping  foe,  and  motioned  to 
him  to  shoot.  A  moment  later  an  arrow  whizzed  through 
the  air  and  struck  the  sleeping  knight,  who  never  woke 
again.     But,  while  his  enemy  departed  in  triumph,  the  pale- 


i  I. 


334 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE. 


faced  woman  stood  there  gazing  fixedly  at  the  lifeless  body, 
and  she  was  never  known  to  smile  again. 


PFAFERS. 


'ZxK  stolen  5acramciii. 


The  devil  once  took  up  his  abode  in  the  narrow  ravine 
whence  the  hot  springs  of  Ffafers  rise,  and  lying  in  wait 
there,  soon  saw  Anna  Vogtli  pass  by.  He  knew  that  she 
was  a  witch,  and  that  she  delighted  in  seeking  herbs  at  mid- 
night on  the  mountain  side,  so  he  promised  her  all  manner 
of  luck  in  her  search  if  she  would  only  steal  into  the  neigh- 
boring church  and  throw  away  the  holy  wafer  resting  on 
the  altar. 

The  girl,  who  had  long  ago  given  up  going  to  mass,  and 
who  had  already  sold  her  soul  to  Satan,  immediately  obeyed. 
But,  no  sooner  had  she  laid  her  hand  upon  the  sacred 
host  than  the  ground  shook,  the  lightning  played,  the 
thunder  rolled,  and  the  mountain  echoes  began  to  awaken. 
Terrified  at  the  sudden  commotion,  Anna  Vogtli  threw 
away  the  wafer,  which  fell  on  a  thorn  bush,  whence  sprang 
a  silvery  rose,  which  curled  its  petals  all  around  it  to  pro- 
tect it  from  all  harm. 

Some  sheep  passing  by  there  reverently  bent  the  knee,  and 
a  wolf,  springing  out  of  the  thicket  to  devour  them,  lay  down 
like  a  lamb  among  them.  The  people,  attracted  by  these 
miracles,  plucked  the  silvery  rose,  and  laid  it  upon  the  altar 
of  the  church  of  Ettes  Wyl,  where  it  can  still  be  seen,  and 
is  said  to  have  very  blessed  and  miraculous  properties. 


ST.    GOTTHARD 
Cascade  of  Wvler. 


COIRE. 


J  .'i  , 


COIRE. 

A  KNIGHT  was  once  riding  through  the  fields  accompanied 
by  his  page.  All  at  once  he  noticed  a  babe  lying  alone  by 
the  roadside,  and  charitably  bade  his  attendant  pick  it  up 
and  carry  it  home.  The  page  stooped  to  raise  the  infant, 
but,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  it  was  too  heavy  for  him  to  lift! 

The  knight  dismounted  to  help  him,  but  all  his  strength 
could  not  suffice  to  raise  the  child.  In  vain  he  called  squire 
and  peasant  to  help  him,  in  vain  they  strained  every  muscle, 
the  babe  still  lay  smiling  on  the  grass.  All  at  once  the 
babe  opened  its  mouth  and  predicted  that  they  would  have 
a  very  fruitful  and  prosperous  year,  and  then  it  vanished. 

The  babe's  prediction  was  verified,  for  the  grain  fields 
bore  a  hundredfold,  the  barns  and  granaries  were  full,  all 
the  poor  had  plenty  to  eat  that  year,  and  none  knew  want. 

There  are  many  picturesque  and  interesting  spots  along 
the  Rhine  below  Coire.  Many  of  them  are  easy  of  access, 
for  the  railroad  follows  the  river  for  some  distance  further. 
Among  the  many  more  or  less  direct  tributaries  which  come 
down  from  the  mountains  to  swell  the  tide  of  this  river, 
there  is  the  Reuss,  which  takes  its  source  in  the  St.  Gott- 
hard  Mountain  and  forms  a  beautiful  cascade  at  Wasen. 


yarewell  to  tbe  IRbine. 

Adieu  to  thee,  fair  Rhine  !     How  long  delighted 
The  stranger  fain  would  linger  on  his  way  ! 
Thine  is  a  scene  alike  where  souls  united, 
Or  lonely  contemplation  thus  might  stray, 
And  could  the  ceaseless  vultures  cease  to  prey 
On  self-condemning  bosoms,  it  were  here 
Where  nature,  nor  too  somber,  nor  too  gay, 
Wild,  but  not  rude,  awful,  yet  not  austere. 
Is  to  the  mellow  earth  as  autumn  to  the  year. 


Ml 


il! 


33^ 


LEGENDS  OF   THE  RHINE, 


Adieu  to  thee  again  !  a  vain  adieu  ! 

There  can  be  no  farewell  to  scene  like  thine, 

The  mind  is  colored  by  thy  every  hue  ; 

And,  if  reluctantly  the  eyes  resign 

Their  cherished  gaze  upon  thee,  lovely  Rhine  ! 

*Tis  with  the  thankful  glance  of  parting  praise. 

More  mighty  spots  may  rise — more  glaring  shine. 

But  none  unite  in  one  attaching  maze 

The  brilliant,  fair,  and  soft — the  glory  of  old  days. 

The  negligently  grand,  the  fruitful  bloom 
Of  coming  ripeness,  the  white  city's  sheen. 
The  rolling  stream,  the  precipice's  gloom. 
The  forest's  growth,  and  Gothic  walls  between. 
The  wild  rocks,  shaped  as  they  had  turrets  been, 
In  mockery  of  man's  art  ;  and  there  withal 
A  race  of  faces,  happy  as  the  scene 
Whose  fertile  bounties  here  extend  to  all, 
Still  springing  o'er  thy  banks,  though  empires  near  thee  fall. 

— Byron, 


APPETJDIX. 


Note  i.    The  fish-and-ring  episode  -.n    thi.  1 -send  has 
many  counterparts  in  the  ancient  annals  of  sundry  nations. 
In  the  Indian  drama  of  Sakuntala  the  heroine  loses  her 
ring  on  her  way  to  join  her  husband.     As  the  ring  possesses 
Ji.c  powers,  he  fails  to  recognize  her  without  it ;  it  is  on^y 
when  the  mystic  circlet  has  been  found  in  a  fish  that  the 
memory  of  his  marriage  returns  to  him.     In  the   Jewish 
legends,  Solomon  owes  all  his  power  u.  a  uiagic  ring.     In 
punishment    for  worshiping  idols  during   forty   davs,   the 
Tvil  spirit  takes  possession  of  his  ring  for  an  equal  spac 
of  time,  assumes  his  form,  and  reigns  in  his  stead.     The 
forty  days  ended,  the  Evil  One  is  forced  tu  relinquish  h, 
power,  a'nd  casts  the  ring  into  the  sea  of  Gahlee.  where  , 
\  immediately  swallowed  by  a  fish.     Solomon,  wau,!.r,ng 
discTsolate  Jong  the  beach,  begs  food  of  a  fisherman   wo 
eives  him   the   fish   he  has  just  caught.      In   .i.   stomach 
Solomon  finds  the  ring,  which  enables  him  to  remount  the 

'Tancient  history,  Polycrates.  king  of  S-osJ^oa^ts  of 
his  wealth  and  prosperity  to  Amasis,  king  of  EgYP^ .  ^^ 
latter  advises  birr,  voluntarily  to  -cnfie  his  dearest 
treasure  lest  he  should  incur  tiie  vvratn  .1  n.e  -ods.  in 
rplia;':  with  this  advice,  i'olycrates  cas.s  ';-;««-"  n 
into  the  sea  Shortly  after,  a  remarkably  fine  fish j^  bron.ut 
to  him  a.  a.  ,nt,  and  in  it  he  finds   the  magic  ring. 

There  are  nuu.eroas  example,  ui  magic  rings  "Ot  only  m 
an^e^ht,  ra.ere,  .be.e  Gyges  is  mentioned,  but  also  m 
meXval   literature,   where   the    Nibelungen    nng    a.   the 


338 


APPENDIX, 


APPENDIX, 


339 


great  German  epic,  and  the  ring  of  Titania,  which  Oberon 
gives  to  Rezia,  in  the  romance  of  Huon  of  Bordeaux,  are 
the  most  famous  specimens. 

Note  2  The  northern  people  were  wont  to  drink  certain 
toasts  in  honor  of  their  gods  on  all  solemn  occasions.  This 
custom  was  so  popular  that  the  Christian  missionaries 
deemed  it  wisest  not  to  attempt  to  suppress  it  entirely. 
Instead  of  ih  inking  to  the  twelve  principal  Asa^,  the  people 
were  then  fun   ta  u  ht  to  pledge  Christ  and  his  disciples. 

Saint  (  ;  r  i  ur  the  Virgin,  was  at  the  same  time 
substituted  for  1  whose  honor  a  cup  of  mead  was 

drained  ai  nui. .  .4^.  iv5  »als  and  all  great  national  feast 
days. 

As  for  magic  potions,  they  are  very  common  in  the  folk- 
lore K){  all  nations.  Circe  and  Gudrun  (Kriemhild)  both 
detain  their  lovers  by  their  means,  but  while  they  are 
generally  supposed  to  induce  love,  as  is  seen  in  the  story  of 
Tristan  and  Isolde,  Liicy  arc  also  often  iniciitltd  to  preserve 
the  drinker  from  harm,  as  in  this  ease. 

r   ;.   The  denouement  of  this  story  recalls  the  classic 
tale  of  Cleobis  and  Biton,  related  at  length  in  the  author's 

M)  I   >  of  Greece  and  Rome,"  p.  54. 

Note  4 
great 
version 
myth  p 
Psv(  ■ 


The  story  (A  I 

'A   cveit,:  (if    t 


:ie 


f  ITU  11:1 

1    !'' 
i\  (.J 

myth 


A 


nirriri^  vvincii   is  a  part  of  the 
H    n         ^'!    '^,  i^  also  a  northern 
a     ni   Cupid  and  Psyche.     The 
ne  peculiar  marriage  custom. 
J    not  being  allowed   to   see  her 
losini'     {III  :  Elsa's  by  refraining 


-  intimately  connected  with 
...J  in    the  author's  work  on  the 

-  the  Middle  .l^.::..  " 

F  5.  There  are  countless  variations  of  this  beautiful 
ill  X  rthriai  literature.  The  oldest  now  extant  is 
that  contained  in  the  heroic  poems  of  the  Elder  Edda.  This 
version  was  enlarged  in  the  well-known  Volsunga  saga»  where 


the  principal  characters  are  Sigurd,  Gudrun,  Grimhild, 
Gunnar,  Hogni,  and  Atli.  An  outline  of  this  famous  saga 
is  given  in  the  author's  **  Myths  of  Northern  Lands,"  and  it 
forms  the  basis  of  William  Morris'  epic  poem,  **  Sigurd  the 
Volsung."  The  Nibelungenlied,  the  great  German  epic,  is 
a  later  version  of  the  same  tale,  and  according  to  Lachmann 
is  made  up  from  five  different  cycles  of  northern  myths. 
The  third  version  is  the  most  popular  one,  and  is  given 
here  in  full. 

Nhtf  6.  The  old  northern  belief  in  Liosalfar,  or  Light 
Is  is  here  embodied.  These  beneficent  creatures  were 
osed  to  aid  mankind.  With  the  introduction  of 
'.hristianity,  these  helpful  beings  were  called  angels,  and 
the  worship  previously  given  to  them  was  transferred  to 
the  heavenly  host.  As  in  the  myth  of  Lohengrin,  any  ques- 
tion concerning  their  origin  entailed  their  departure  ;  and, 
as  their  services  were  voluntary,  the  mention  of  a  reward 
was  an  insult. 

Note  7.  The  story  of  St.  Ursula,  which  has  prompted 
many  noted  works  of  art,  especially  in  the  Italian  and  Ger- 
man schools,  has  been  identified  by  some  folk-lorists  with 
that  of  Diana,  the  moon  maiden.  Ursula  is  supposed  to 
represent  the  orb  of  night,  while  her  eleven  thousand  vir- 
gins are  emblems  of  the  manifold  stars,  which  seem  to  fol- 
low in  her  train.  This  story,  however,  has  given  rise  to 
much  speculation,  and  noted  writers  have  declared  that 
Ursula  really  existed,  and  that  she  and  eleven  virgins  were 
martyred  by  the  Huns  at  Cologne.  They  claim  that 
**  eleven  thousand  "  is  a  mistaken  reading  of  an  old  inscrip- 
tion. For  further  details  concerning  this  legend,  see  Mrs. 
Jameson's  '*  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art." 

Notes.  The  Heinzelmannchen,  Hke  the  Brownies  in  Scot- 
land, were  supposed  to  be  helpful  beings,  who  continued 
their  ministrations  as  long  as  they  remained  unseen.  This 
is  a  remains  of  the  old  Northern  belief  in  dwarfs  and  elves. 
There  are  countless  similar  tales  told  all  along  the  Rhine, 


1! 


340 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


.3'+ 


for  the  Heinzelmannchen  play  a  prominent  part  in  German 
folk-lore. 

Note  9.  The  blooming  of  a  withered  staff  is  a  feature 
\\  iiiuii  often  reappears  in  sacred  and  mediaeval  literature. 
The  first  instance  is,  of  course,  the  rod  of  Aaron,  long  pre- 
served in  the  holy  ark.  In  the  legeiins  <f  the  Virgin  we 
are  told  that  the  high  priest  was  warned  in  a  dream  to  give 
Mary  in  marriage  to  one  of  the  widowers  m  Israel.  Sum- 
moned by  the  High  Priest,  the  widowers  all  laid  tlicir  rods 
or  staffs  upon  the  altar  Joseph's  bloomed,  and,  according 
to  some  authorities,  a  dove  came  and  perched  upon  it.  In 
paintings  depicting  the  marriage  of  the  Virgin,  Joseph  is, 
therefore,  always  represented  with  a  blooming  rod,  on 
which  a  dove  is  sometimes  perched.  In  mediaeval  literature 
the  most  noted  example  of  t  miracie  is  related  in  the 
story  of  Tannhauser,  which  is  given  in  this  volume. 

Note  10.  The  way  in  which  Arnold  obtained  a  large 
?{rant  of  land  from  the  emperor  is  a  parallel  to  the  story  uf 
::3i  lAiitliiide.  Stratagems  in  such  matters  were  consid- 
ered praiseworthy,  and  are  not  without  their  counterparts 
in  more  ancient  literature.  In  the  Greek  myths  we  find 
Dido  resorting  to  the  stratagem  of  the  oxhide  to  obtain  a 
grauL  uf  land  from  the  Carthaginians.  Gefjon  also  avails 
herself  of  a  rnse  to  secure  land  from  Gylfi,  the  northern 
king,  and  Ragnar  Lodbrog's  sons  thus  obtain  the  spot  where 
they  founded  London. 

Note  ii.  Charlemagne's  miracnlons  ride  from  the  far 
East  Lu  ua  I  Chapelle,  in  the  space  of  a  few  hours,  has 
its  counterpart  in  manv  fairy  tales.  One  of  the  favorite 
modes  of  transportation  in  mediaeval  literature  was  by 
means  of  an  enchanted  steed,  and  most  mediaeval  heroes 
luivc  (J lie  at  their  disposal,  like  Renaud  of  Montauban. 

Note  12.  The  monk  of  Heisterbach  is  the  German  ver- 
sion of  the  old  myth,  which,  as  the  Seven  Sleepers  of 
Ephesus,  Epimenides  (the  Sleeper  of  Athens),  Brunhild, 
and  the   Sleeping  Beauty,   is  always  reappearing  in  litera- 


ture. It  has  found  one  of  its  latest,  and  certainly  its  niuht 
beautiful  setting  at  the  hands  of  Washington  Irving,  in  his 
legend  of  Rip  Van  Winkle. 

Note  13.  Roland  is  the  principal  hero  of  the  great  cycle 
of  Carolingian  myths.  He  is  also  the  most  famous  warrior 
in  the  great  French  epic,  ''  La  Chanson  de  Roland."  A  full 
account  of  this  cycle  will  be  found  in  the  author's  ''  Legends 
of  the  M  idle  Ages."  The  story  of  the  Drachenfels  is 
merely  a  later  version  of  the  episode  of  Lady  Alda. 
Ariosto  and  Boiardo,  the  Italian  poets,  have  written  long 
and  beautiful  works  about  this  hero,  who  is  admirably  de- 
picted in  James  Baldwin's  ''  Story  of  Roland." 

Note  14.  Early  in  the  Middle  Ages  it  was  popularly 
believed  that  the  blood  would  flow  from  the  wounds  of  a 
murdered  man  at  the  touch  of  his  assassin.  This  belief  is 
exemplified  in  the  Nibelungenlied,  where  Siegfried's  body  is 
laid  in  state  in  the  Worms  Cathedral,  and  the  huntsmen  are 
all  summoned  by  Kriemhild  to  submit  to  the  test.  The 
blood  flows  al  iiagen's  touch,  and  Kriemhild  vehemently 
denounces  him.  After  she  has  thus  discovered  his  guilt 
she  knows  no  rest  until  she  has  avenged  her  husband, 
although  this  revenge  entails  the  death  of  all  the  Burgun- 

dian  knights. 

The  episode  related  in  this  legend  forms  the  basis  also  of 

Chaucer's  charming  *' Prioress'  Tale." 

Note  15.  In  the  *'  Heimskringla,"  or  Chronicle  of  the 
ancient  kings  of  Norway,  where  the  historical  Odin  is 
described,  we  are  told  that  his  soul  often  left  his  body  m 
the  shape  of  a  mouse.  This  superstition  was  a  common 
one  in  the  north.  In  the  tale  of  the  Pied  Piper  of  Ham- 
elin,  the  mice  are  the  souls  of  the  dead,  and  the  Piper  is 
Odin,  the  northern  Psychopompus.  In  the  tale  of  the 
Mausethurm  the  rats  and  mice  are  also  human  souls  ani- 
mated by  a  burning  spirit  of  revenge.  ^     ,  .  , 

Note  i  6  This  is  the  German  version  of  the  myth  which 
reappears  in  ail  works  on  demonology.     The  Snake  Lady  is 


% 


342 


APPENDIX. 


a  counterpart   of   the  Greek   Lamia,  and   of    the  Hebrew 
Lilith,  the  first  wife  of  Adam. 

Note  17.  The  story  here  related  is  told  with  many  varia- 
tions. There  is  one  version  of  it  in  Percy's  **Reliques," 
where  King  John  and  the  Abbot  of  Canterbury  play  the 
principal  parts.  The  story  is,  in  all  other  points,  the  same. 
The  love  of  riddles  is  common  to  all  nations,  and  many 
early  specimens  have  been  preserved.  Besides  the  riddle 
propounded  by  the  Sphinx  to  CEdipus,  the  riddle  which 
Samson  asked  the  ■  Philistines,  the  one  concerning  Odin 
and  his  steed,  there  are  such  as  the  one  on  the  wind, 
'*What  flies  forever  and^  rests  never?"  which  are  of  great 
antiquity. 


INDEX. 


Aar  (Switzerland),  305 

Aarberg,  Lord  of,  130-132 

Aargau,  Canton  of,  324 

Acre,  183,  293 

Adalbert,  258 

Adalbert  of  Ehrenfels,  230-231 

Adam,  56-57 

Adelgunde,  207-208 

Adelheid.  99,  127 

Adelheid  von  Slotterfoth,  100 

Adolph  of  Holland,  210 

^gle,  178-180 

vEsir,  29 

Agnes,  179-180,  213-214 

Agnes  of  Hungary,  323 

Agrippinus,  58 

Ahr  (German),  134,  I37 

Aix-la-Chapelle,  81-96,  245 

Alberich,  35 

Albert  of  Austria,  323 

Albertus  Magnus,  62-63 

Alcuin,  88 

Alemans,  318 

Alfonso  X.  of  Castile,  210 

Alfus,  112-115 

All-father,  33 

Almain,  281 

Alps,  60,  325 

Alt  Eberstein,  288-289,  290 

Altenabr,  137-138 

Alsace,  306 

Amiens,  49 

Amilias,  26-28 

Amina,  216-217 

Andemach,  145.  I47-I5I.  19° 

Andrew,  St.,  62 

Andvari,  30,  35 

Angel  of  Death,  70,  7^ 

Anglia,  61 


Anna  (Empress),  31I 

Anna  Vogtli,  334 

Anno,  70 

Anthony,  114 

Anton,  319 

Apollinaris,  St.,  129 

Apollinarisberg,  St.,  12^132 

Apollo,  300 

Apostles,  Church  of  the,  67-68 

Arabia,  43 

Ardennes,  93-94 

Argenfels,  11 8-1 20 

Arnold,  70,  78 

Arnold  von  Isenburg,  169 

Arnoldsweiler,  78-79 

Arthur,  275 

Attila,  41,  153 

Atri,  308 

Auerbach,  271 

Augst,  314-315 

Austrasia,  149,  I93 

Austria,  293 

Ave  Maria,  63 


B 


Bacchus,  215  , 

Bacharach,  175,  iqS-IQQ.  207,  215, 276 
Bacon,  62 

Baden,  276,  290-291 
Balmung,  27,  28,  32,  33,  35 
Balther  von  Bassenich,  1 21,  122 
Bamberg,  Bishop  of,  180 
Barbarossa,  see  Frederick  Barbarossa. 

Basel,  59-^'  310-313 

Basina,  T47-148 

Bavaria,  274 

Beatrix,  72-73»  I90-I93 

Beethoven,  loi 

Benno, 188-189 

Bergen,  the  Knave  of,  267 253 


54  j 


W 


% 


o^^ 


IxVDEX. 


ri^TDEX. 


'45 


Bernard,  St.,  ii8,  241 
Berserker,  281 
Bertha,  118-120,  157-158 
Bessie,  169 

Bethesda,  57 

Biberich,  252-253 

Bingen,  231-233 

Bingerloch,  233.  240-241 

Bischofszell,  327-328 

Black  Forest,  286-287,  288.  316,  319 

Bleidenberg,  164 

Blondel,  294 

Blucher,  214 

Bohemia,  323 

Bonn,  100-107,  108,  109 

Boppart,  18 1 -1 83 

Bornhofen,  183-185 

Bowring,  16 

Brabant,  Duke  of,  16,  I49 

Bragi,  33,  34 

Braubach,  177,  178 

Brauweiler,  75-77 

Breisach,  308,  309 

Bretten,  287-288 

Brey,  175-177 

Brittany,  58,  59 

Brocken,  143 

Broemser,  Hans,  241-243 

Brothers,  The,  183.  185 

Brunhild,  33-41 

Bruno,  70 

Bryant,  197-198 

Buchhorn,  327 

Btirgelwald,  78 

Burgundy,  26,  27,  36,  37,  38,  39.  40, 

4« ,  62,  311 
Burgundy,  Duke  of,  62 
Byron,  1  57,  336 


Cain.  ^1 

Canton  of  Aargtii.  324 
Capitol,  64 


!'*■.♦ 


Caporal,  1 
Carden,   K;4,    -' 
Carlovingian 
Castor,  St. ,  « 
Cat,  The,  I 
Caub,  209, 
Cecilia,  St.,  41 


ft  it 


..  156 


t  \\ 


Cedron,  57 
Chamisso,  197 

Charlemagne,  78,  81-85,  ^7,  88,  89, 
90,  91,  (;2,  93,  94,  99,  124,  125, 
I55»  194.  244-246,  247-248,  2C4, 
263-264,  277,  311 

Charles  M artel.  64 

Charles  the  Bold,  62,  311 

Charles  IV.,  174 

"Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage,"  157 

Chilperic,  147-148 

Chosroes,  58 

Christoffero,  163 

Christopher,  St.,  160-163 

Christopher  of  Ramstein,  311-312 

Clara,  188-189,  279 

Clement  V.,  167 

Clement,  St.,  229 

Clement,  St.,  Chapel  of,  224-225 

Clemenskapelle,  229-230 

Cleves,  16-25,  169 

Clothilde,  98 

Clovis,  98,  296 

Coblentz,  155-158 

Cochem,  160-162 

Coire,  335 

C6llen,  see  Cologne. 

Cologne,  14-15,  47-77,  no,  121, 144, 

163,  164,  194,  200,  209 
Colonia,  61 
Conon,  58-61 
Conrad,  230 

Conrad,  Archbishop  of  Cologne,  139 
Conrad  of  Boppart,  1 81-183 
Conrad  of  Tiebenstein,  184-185 
Conrad  IV.,  210 
Conrad  of  Staufen,  213-214 
Constance,  Lake  of,  324-325 
Constantine,  57,  100,  138 
Constantinople,  56 
Cordula,  60 
Cossacks,  156 
Crucifixion,  57 
Crusades,  108,  118 
Cunigunde  of  FlOrsheim,  316-317 
Curse  of  Gold,  29 
Cyriacus,  60 


Dagobert.  VJf^Vjf^ 
Dantzic,  2 

l)an;i,  58 


I 


Darmstadt,  270-271 

Dattenburg,  140-141 

David,  57,  280 

Day  of  Judgment,  57-58 

Devil's  Stone,  54 

Dhaun,  238-239 

Diana,  300 

Dietrich,  183 

Dinkhold,  178 

Diocletian,  67 

Dominicans,  62 

Drachenburg,  124 

Drachenfels,  37,  41,   108,   109,  123- 

127,  149 
Draco,  150 
Dragon  Rock,  123 
Drusus,  147 
Duns  Scotus,  6i-6a 
DUrrenstein,  293 
DUsscldorf,  45-47 


Eberfaart,374 

Eberstein,  288-289 
Eckhardt,  307-308 
Eckhardtsberg,  307-309 
Eden,  56 

Edwin  of  Steinbach,  296-300 
Egidius,  St.,  90-91 
Eginhard,  88-89 
Ehrenbrcitstein,  155 
Ehrenfels,  230-231 
Ehrenthal,  188-189 
Flhegast,  247-248 
Eiberfeld,  41-45 
Elfcld,  251-252 
Elijah,  115,  136 
Elizabeth,  7,  277-279 
Elizabeth,  Empress,  323 
Eloi,  St.,  190 
Fl^a  of  Brabant.  16-21 
1  .  88-89 

■   '■     '  ;;  t'te  H:>h%  47^52,  74 


.     .     ,  ,  , .  238 

',  75-77 


Fafnir,  29-33    i! 

Falkenburg,  ..        :B 

Falkenstein,  25</-2D3 

Father  Rhine,  79-80,  178,  202,  318 

Ferdinand,  251-252 

Fl6rsheim,  258-259 

Frankenpforte,  47,  50 

Frankfort-on-the-Main,  119,  2*  t   269 

France,  81,  125,  318 

Franks,  98,  263-264 

Frastrada,  81-82,  254 

Frauenlob,  254 

Frederick  Barbarossa,   118,    198-199, 

213,  275,  280-282 
Frederick  V.,  277-279 
Frederick  of  Germany,  96 
Frederick  of  Saxony,  272 
Frederick  of  Sayn,  1 51-153 
Frederick  of  Telramund,  16-21 
Frederick  the  Victorious,  277-279 
Freyerwahl,  Lord  of,  lOO-ioi 
Fridolin,  295-296 
Fridolin,  St.,  315-316,  318 
Friesland,  8-9,  323 
FUrstenberg,  215-217 


Gabnei  Gnipello,  45-47 

Gall,  St.,  328-331 

Gallia,  61 

Gebhard,  no 

Genevieve,  St.,  149*151 

George,  St.,  25-26 

Gereon,  St.,  67 

Gerda,  223-225 

Geriinda,  249-250 

Germany,  95.  9^,  i".  ^*7<  ^9^ 

Gertruidenbei^,  9-13 

Gertrude,  St.,  9-13 

Gisella,  242-243 

Claris,  315-316 

Glittering  Heath,  31,  3«»  S3.  35   4^ 

Goar,  St.,  193-195.  196,  199*  201 

Godesberg.  io8~iio 

Godorf,  80 

Goethe,  263,  31a 

Goliath,  280 

Golo.  149-151 

Gottesthal,  246 

Gotthard,  St.,  mountain,  335 


3«6 


INDEX. 


f  a  r  r^  t:  y 


54t 


Gretchen,  14    15 

Greyfell,  29,  32,  33.  34 
Gripir,  29 
Gnipello,  45-47 
Gryn,  Hermann,  74-75 
Guda,  209-211 
Gunther,  36,  41 
Guntram,  226-228 
Gutenfels,  209-211 

H 

Habrecht,  Isaac,  301-302 

Hagan,  36-41,  61,  272 

Hague,  5-7 

Hahnenthor.  74 

Hammerstein,  144-145 

Hanau,  269 

Hapsburg,  95,  323,  324 

Haslach,  306 

Hatto,  Bishop,  230-233,  257-95S 

Hei  lelberg,  248,  276-280,  317 

Heimburg,  220 

Heine,  16,  202 

Heinrich,  157-158,  184-185 

Heinrich  of  Saxony,  257-258 

Heinrich  of  Sonneck,  221-222 

Heinzelmannchen,  71-72 

Heisterbach,  112-118,  120 

Helena,  57,  67 

Helena,  St.,  Convent  of,  141 

Helfenstein,  262-263 

Henneberg,   Count  and  Countess  of, 

5-7 
Henry,  177-178,  179 
Henry  T  ,  the  Fowler,  lo 
Henrv   if      311 
I1  .of  England,  210 

1  • u,  293-294 

\ 
1  ■      ■ ,  213-214 


)2-303 


livr 


It 


:'7 


Hoheneck,  220 

Holbein,  311-313 

Holland,  323 

HOllenhaken,  323 

Holy  Grail,  17-21 

Holy  Land,  119,  237,  332 

Holy  Sepulcher,  118,  152,  195 

Homberg,  Count  of,  23,  25 

H6rselberg,  308 

Hreidmar,  29-31 

Hugo,  216-217 

Hugo  of  Langenstein,  325-326 

Hunaland,  31 

Hungary,  323,  327 

Huns,  41,  59.  60,  153,  154,  291-292 

Huss,  272 


Ida,  320 

Illyria,  293 

Ingelheim,    83,    194,   230,  231,    245, 

247-248,  277 
Inquisition,  100 
Irmengarde,  260-261 
Isenland,  33-38 
Isenstein,  34 
Italy,  322 

Itha  of  Toggenburg,  331-333 
Ittenbach,  129 

J 

James  I.  of  England,  277 
Jan,  5 

Jean  of  Steinbach,  298-300 
"crusalem,  57-58 

esuits,  105-107 

ohannisberg,  243,  244 
^ohn,  7 

John,  St.,  12,  2^j,  244,  256 
John  Lackland,  294 
John  William    T  It    tor,  45 
John  of  Suabia,  323 
Jordan,  8 

Jost  von  Buhl,  67-68 
Joyeuse,  88,  90 
Julian,  109 
Jupiter,  109,  300 

K 

Kaiscrsiautern,  280-282 
Karl,  Count,  286-287 
Karlsnihe,  286-287 


Katze.  196 

Katzenellenbogen,  195-196 
Kedrich,  249-250 
Kempten,  244 
Kevlaar,  13-16 
Klingenberg,  215 
Knebel,  66 

Knights  Templar,  167-169 
Konigsfelden,  323 
Kdnigsstuhl,  174-175 
Konigswinter,  118 
Kreuzberg,  107-108 
Kreuznach,  234,  236 
Kriemhild,  36-41,  271 
Kunibert,  61,  70 
Kuno  of  Reichenstein,  223-225 
Kuno  of  Sayn,  259-261 
Kurt  von  Stein,  140-141 
Kyffhauser,  280 


Laach,  145-147 

Lady's  Sand,  3 

Lahn,  165-167 

Lahneck,  167-169 

Lallenkonig,  310-311 

Landolf,  315-316 

Landskrone,  134-136 

Lange  Winkel,  244-246 

Laufen,  325 

Laura,  184-185 

Leipsic,  282 

Leonard,  314 

Leopold  of  Austria,  293-294 

Leyden,  87 

Liba,  121-122,  226-228 

Libo  von  Lorch,  249-251 

Liebenstein,  183-'*' 5 

Limmat,  305 

Linz,  132,  148 

Lochheim,  40-41 

Lohengrin,  17-21 

Loki,  29-31 

Longfellow,  89,  309 

Lorch,  218-219,  249,  250-251 

Lorelei,  199-206,  208,  209 

Loreleiberg,  199 

Louis  L,  the  Debonnaire,  155 

Louis  the  German,  252 

Louis  XIV.,  277 

Louis  v.,  230 

Lousberg,  87 


L6wenberg,  11 1,  122 
Ludwig,  Count,  203 
Ludwig  the  Cruel,  177 
Luftelberg,  98-99 
LUfthilde,  98-99 
Ltilsdorf,  96-98 
Luneburg,  16 
Luther,  272-277 
LUttich,  25-26 


Magi,  56 

Main,  215,  253,  259,  263-265 

Mainau,  325-326 

Mainz,  48,    82,    139,    144,    168,   313, 

230,  253-258 
Mai  Trank,  319 
Marceau,  General,  157 
Margaretha,  319-322 
Maria,  177-178 
Marienberg,  183 
Market  Place,  Bonn,  105- 107 
Marksburg,  177-178 
Marquis  of  Campo  Santo,  322 
Mars,  300 

Martyrs,  Church  of  the,  67 
Mary  the  Virgin,  14-16,  65,   68,  72, 

73,  254-255,  270-271 
Maso,  172-174 
Maternus,  67,  70 
Mathilda,  75-77 
Mausethurm,  230 
Maxentius,  138 
Maximilian,  96,  272- 274 
Mayence,  see  Mainz. 
Meister  Hammerling,  128 
Melanchthon,  272 
Memory,  34 

Mengis  von  Aducht,  6S-69 
Mercury,  300 
Merovig,  147 

Merovingians,  148,  190,  220 
Metternich,  241-244 
Milan,  56 
Milon,  93,  94 
Mimer,  26-31 
Mina,  1 18-120,  1 72-1 74 
Minorites,  Church  of  the.  61 
Miserabelchen,  159 
Molay,  Jacques,  168 
Montsalvat,  17,  21 
Mort,  Michel,  236 


34^ 


INDEX. 


Mosbach,  252 

Moselle,  157, 158,  159,  160,  163,  164, 

165 
Moses,  57 
Mouse,  the,  196 
MUller,  129 
Mtimmel,  292-293 
Mlimmelchen,  292,  293 
MUmmelsee,  292-293 
Murg,  289 


N 


Nalie,  234,  239,  255 

Napoleon,  156,  214,  282 

Neckar,  276 

Nessler,  316 

Netherlands,  9,  12,  26,  27,  41 

Neu-Eberstein,  289-290 

Neuenahr,  no,  134-137 

Niblung,  35 

Nibelungen  hoard,  272 

Nibelungen  land,  34-41 

Nibelungenlied,  41,  272 

Nicholas,  St.,  312,  240-241 

Nidberg,  333-334 

N'ldeck,  306 

Niederburg,  241 

^      !'  rheimbach,  220 

'^'5  stein,  165-167 

H.  153-154 
/alley,  124 


ObeiMlMni,  agiHigt 

Obcrstein,  239 

Oberwesel,  203,  206-207,  215 

Ockenfels,  132,  133 

^Id.  40-41 
*  ^    ■'.  ~  ^    -    32,  33.  34,  35.  36,  133 


'  'fc,b<^r^^**-'*"j  '  .-    ^'^ 


Othmar,   169-172 
Otter,   29-30 
Otto,  22-25 
Otto  I.,  288,  289 
Otto  III..  75-77,  88 
Otto  of  Hammerstein,  144 
Otto  of  Wittelsbach,  276 


Palatine,  203,  212 

Palestine,  72.  152.  182,  195,  243 

Paradise,  57,  60,  66,  H2,  115 

Parsifal,  17,  2 1 

Pepin  the  Short,  148 

Perkeo,  279-280 

Persia,  58 

Peter,   St.,   25-26,  67,   119-120, 

158-159,  256 
Peter,  Archbishop  of  Mainz,  168 
Pfafers,  334 
Pfaffenthor,  74-75 
Pfalz,  205,  212-214 
Pfalzgrafenstein,  212 
Pharamond,  220 
Philip  IV.,  167 

Philip  of  Falkenstein,  209-2II 
Philip  of  Hesse,  272 
Philippsburg,  285-286 
Planche,  109 
Plectrude,  64 
Polydore,  298-300 


O 


.  >^*^ 


15^ 


Queen  of  Shcba,  57 


Radbod,8-9 
Raging  Host,  123 
Ramersdorf,  ill 
Ran,  30 

Rankenbcrg,  I 85-187 
Rankwyl,  315,  316 
Rat  Tower,  230,  233,  242 
Regin,  28-33 
Reichenberg,  198-199 
Reichenstein,  223-225 
Rcmagen,  129 
Remi,  St.,  98 
Rcuchlin,  27a 
Reuss,  335 


INDEX, 


349 


Rheidt,  79 

Rheims,  98 

R  heinbreitbach,  127-129 

Rheincronik,  61 

Kheindiebach,  217 

Rheineck,  142-143 

Rheinfelden,  323 

Rheinfels,  196 

Rheingrafenstein,  234-235 

Rheinhard  von  Renneberg,  132-133 

Rheinhold,  118 

Rheinstein,  223-225,  229-230 

Rhense,  174-175 

Richard  of  Cornwall,  2IO-2II 

Richard,  Lion  Heart,  293-294 

Richmodis,  68-69 

Ritza,  St.,  155-156 

Robert,  295,  296 

Rodenkirchen,  63,  80 

Rodenstein,  274-275,  280 

Roland,  93,  94,  123-127 

Rolandseck,  127 

Rome,  59-61,  67,  139,  143,  239,  307- 

308,  322 
Roncevaux,  125 
Rose  Garden,  41 
Rouen,  294 
Rlidesheim,  240-243 
Rudo-lf  of  Linz,  132-133 
Rudolph  of  Hapsburg,  181-182,  31 1 
Rupert,  Prince,  175 
Ruthelm,  Sir,  250 


Sabine,  130-132 

Sabine  of  Stcinbach,  298-300 

Sakingen,  315-322 

Saracens,  I18-I19,  125,  149,  164,  183, 

195,  241,  242,  325 
Sargans,  333 
Saturn,  300 
Saveme,  see  Zabem. 
Savonarola,  272 
Saxons,  263-264 
Saxony,  273 
Sayn,  151-153 
Schaffhausen,  324-325 
Scheffel,  316 
Schiller,  323,  333 
Schlossberg,  236 
Sch6nberg,  207-209 
Schott  von  GrUnstein,  122 


Schweitz,  323 

Scot,  62 

Scotia,  61 

Seidl,  56 

Sempach,  323 

Seth,  56-57 

Seven  Mountains,  54,  117-^123 

Severinus,  70 

Shiblung,  35 

Siebengebirge,  see  Seven  Mountains. 

Siegfried,  26-41,   123,  271 

Siegfried  of  Austrasi a,  T49-151 

Sigcbert,  193 

Sigelind,  26 

Sigmund,  26 

Sinzig,  138-139 

Sitter,  327 

Sonneck,  221-222 

Snowe,  97 

Solomon,  57 

Spain,  100,  loi 

Spcyer,  118,  282-284,  288 

Spires,  see  Speyer. 

Spohn,  Corporal,  156 

Sponheim,  236-238 

Sprendlingen,  234 

Stahleck,  203,  215,  276 

St.  ApoUinarisberg,   129-132 

Stavoren,  1-4 

Stein,  Countess  of,  215,  255-256 

Stcrrenberj^,  183-185 

St.  Gall,  328-331 

St.  Mary  of  the  Angels,  332 

St.  Mary  of  the  Capitol,  64 

St.  Peter's  Church,  322 

Stolzenfcls,  169-174 

Strasburg,  48,  296-306 

Suabia,  Duke  of,  192 

Sueno,  220 

Swan  Knight,  1 8-21 

Switzerland,  60,  304-306 


TannhSoser,  307-308 

Tarnkappe,  35-3^ 
Temple,  57 
Teuerlich,  Hans,  187 
leutons,  98 
Teutonic  Knights,  326 
Thebaid  Legion.  67 
Theonest,  St.,  212 
Thionetus,  58 


35© 


rN'DEX. 


Thought,  54 
1  hur,   327 
Thuiant,  163-164 
Thunngia,  308,  323 
Thurnberg,  188,  196-198 
Toggenburg,  331-333 
Tolbiac,  98 
Treuenfels,  121 
Treves,  53,  163,  164,  193 
Trier,  see  Treves 
Trifels,  293-294 
Turpin.  82-85 

IJ 

Ulrich,  139 

Ulrich  of  Rheineck,  142-143 

Ulrich  of  Buchhom,  327 
Undine,  79-80 
Unterwalden,  323 
Urban,  Pope,  307-308 
Uri,  323 

Urso,  Count,  315-316 
Ursula,  St.,  58-61 
Ute,  37 


•I  j> 


-too,  307-308 
^^ount  of,  236-238 
Vienna,  88 

Villich,  99-100,  109,  120 
Vindeck,  197 
Vindonissa,  323 
Vionetus,  58 
Volsung  country,  32 
Vosges,  288 


W 


Waal,  9 
Wagner,  308 
Waldus,  272 


WalpUrgisnacht,  142,  228 

Walther  von  Birbach,  270-1^ 

Wartburg,  308 

Wasen,  335 

Waterloo,  214 

Welmich,  196 

Wenceslaus.  174-175 

Werlau,  190-193 

Werner,  207 

Werner,  St.,  215 

Werner  of  Hapsburg,  297-298 

Werner  of  Sakingen,  317-322 

Wild  Hunt,  123 

Wild  Huntsman,  274-275 

Willeswind,  169-172 

William,  13 

William  of  Holland,  62-63 

William  Tell,  323 

Will-o'-the-Wisp,  80-81 

Wind,  102-107 

Wisperthal,   198,  218-219,   229,   249 

250 
Woden,  9 
Wolf,  55 

Wolf  von  Eberstein,  289 
Wolkenberg,  11 9- 120 
Wolkenburg,  11 9- 120 
Wonder  Bridge,  134-136 
Worms,   36,  41,  70,  220,  271-274 
WCrth,  325 
WUrtemberg,  274 
Wiirzburg,  215 
Wyclif,  272 


Xanten,  26-41 


Zabem,  294-296 
Zeeland,  323 
Ztilpich,  98,  20 
ZUndorf,  79-80 
Zurich,  304-306 
Zuyder  Zee,  1-4 


THE   END. 


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